It is seldom that mathematicians are attracted to literature — enough to write fiction, at any rate. Twenty-eight-year-old Dumisani Sibiya got distinctions in maths and science in matric, but he is now studying towards a PhD in African literature at Wits University — and has just published his second book.
Sibiya’s first novel, Kungasa Ngifile (a saying meaning “I’ll be dead by the time dawn comes”, from Tafelberg Publishers), gained much acclaim and has been prescribed for both schools and universities. His new book, Izinyembezi (Tears, from Ilitha Publishers), however, is different in approach. It will speak to many different audiences.
These stimulating short stories and essays speak to a contemporary audience for various reasons. Izinyembezi has the feel of fast-paced urban life, while also unravelling some of the underlying problems of society — identity crises, social conflicts, racial and gender bigotry. It also deals with such issues as technology and HIV/Aids, both lingering in the author’s mind.
Sibiya takes a hard look at violence and Aids. As a young boy growing up in Nquthu, northern KwaZulu-Natal, he saw people dying of Aids-related causes. He couldn’t have escaped writing about Aids — that province’s infection rate is the highest in South Africa.
Sibiya also lost his uncle in political violence, and that has become another theme of his. “Writing about violence and Aids is a responsibility as a writer because they’re both destructive,” Sibiya says.
The short story Lezo nsuku (Those days) illuminates such violence. It starts off with gunshots, setting up a picture of the unrest over political turf just before the 1994 general elections. Protagonist Gubevu is leader of a political group that is fighting with another group for authority.
Ngiyazisa ngomntanami (Oh, my child) is the lament of a parent for her son, who is dying of Aids. This trauma has led this brave woman to start starts talking about HIV/Aids, de-stigmatising the taboo. Sibiya’s aim here is to remove the stereotypes and stigmas around the deadly syndrome.
Among the essays in the volume, Ulimi lwezimungulu (Sign language) is riveting and beautifully written. It investigates sign language as a form of communication that does not discriminate because it is spoken in one voice, as it were — there is no difference in the gestures of a Zulu-speaker or an Afrikaner using sign language.
All this makes Izinyembezi a must-read, aimed at sophisticated South African readers, and Sibiya a young South African writer to watch out for.