In South Africa, the struggle against apartheid found its most potent voice in a confluence of literature and activism. Steve Biko, a revolutionary thinker and anti-apartheid activist, authored I Write What I Like.
It was Johann Wolfgang von Goethe who said that the decline of literature indicates the decline of a nation.
Southern Africa has a vibrant literary tradition, one woven into the fabric of its social and political struggles. From the plains of Malawi to the coasts of South Africa, a chorus of writers has emerged, not merely chronicling the region’s complexities but shaping its path towards a more open and just society. These are not passive observers; they are architects of change, weaving words to challenge the status quo and ignite the flames of resistance.
Malawi offers a compelling case study. Under the iron fist of Kamuzu Banda’s one-party state some 30 years ago, writers became the conscience of the nation. Jack Mapanje stands tall among them. His volume of poetry, The Chattering Wagtails of Mikuyu Prison, and his book, And the Crocodiles Are Hungry at Night, are potent descriptions of his incarceration for two and a half years without trial just because of a dictatorial regime’s paranoia. Poems such as This is the Hour of the Toad and The Song of a Chicken paint a chilling portrait of a nation choked by fear. Mapanje’s courage in the face of censorship became a rallying cry for a generation yearning to breathe free.
Chinese writer Mo Yan summed it up well when he said: “When literature exists, perhaps we do not notice how important it is, but when it does not exist, our lives become coarsened and brutal. For this reason, I am proud of my profession, but also aware of its importance.”
In South Africa, the struggle against apartheid found its most potent voice in a confluence of literature and activism. Steve Biko, a revolutionary thinker and anti-apartheid activist, authored I Write What I Like. This collection of essays transcended the boundaries of literature, becoming a philosophical manifesto for Black Consciousness. Biko urged black South Africans to reclaim their identities, dismantle the internalised oppression of apartheid and build a sense of collective agency. His words resonated like a thunderclap, uniting a people and igniting resistance that would ultimately help to lead to dismantling the system he condemned.
But the power of Southern African literature extends far beyond mere critique. It celebrates resilience, the unyielding human spirit that refuses to be cowed by oppression. Writers such as Malawi’s Tiyambe Zeleza, in novels like Smouldering Charcoal craft stories that illuminate the hope for a brighter future, even amid the bleakest circumstances. These narratives served as embers of hope for those living under the yoke of authoritarian rule, a testament to the human spirit that would ultimately rise above the ashes.
Yet the struggle for a just society wasn’t confined to dismantling oppressive regimes. Zimbabwe, for instance, grappled with the legacy of colonialism and the challenges of nation-building in the aftermath of independence. Writers such as Chenjerai Hove, the author of Bones, explored the complexities of postcolonial identity, disillusionment with unfulfilled promises and the power of tradition. These stories served as a critical lens through which Zimbabweans could understand their past and present, and chart a course for the future.
Literature’s role in fostering dialogue and reconciliation proved equally crucial. South African novelist JM Coetzee, in works such as Disgrace, delved into the complexities of race relations in a post-apartheid society, reminding readers that the journey towards true justice is a long and arduous one. Similarly, Bessie Head, in her poignant novel A Question of Power, explored the psychological scars of colonialism and the importance of human connection across racial divides. By holding up a mirror to society’s imperfections, these writers paved the way for open discussions and the possibility of healing.
Southern African literature has also become a vital tool for preserving cultural memory and traditions. Oral storytelling traditions have been documented and transcribed by writers such as Mazisi Kunene in South Africa, ensuring the survival of these age-old narratives for future generations. These stories not only entertain but also transmit cultural knowledge and values, fostering a sense of shared heritage.
But the path for Southern African literature hasn’t been without its difficulties. The rise of social media and digital forms of storytelling presents both opportunities and problems. While offering wider reach and accessibility, these platforms can lead to a dilution of the literary form itself, to say nothing of artificial intelligence and the ambiguity it has brought.
Despite this, Southern African literature continues to thrive. A new generation of writers is emerging, grappling with contemporary issues such as climate change, economic inequality, and the influence of global capitalism. They are using their craft to not only entertain but also to spark critical conversations and inspire social change. From No Violet Bulawayo’s critique of political corruption in We Need New Names to Muthi Nhlema and Ekari Mvundula’s eco-fiction Mombera Rising, these writers demonstrate the power of literature to hold a mirror to society and advocate for a more just and equitable world.
Southern African literature is not merely a collection of stories; it is a tapestry woven from resistance, resilience and the pursuit of justice. It is a testament to the power of words to shape societies, foster dialogue and inspire generations to dream of a better tomorrow.
But more still needs to be done. Nations such as Malawi have not institutionalised artists’ rights and privileges. A national arts and heritage council needs to be established to develop and promote the cultural and creative industries. It will be the operational arm of the cultural policy responsible for programming and coordination of some key stakeholders, particularly non-state actors. Such a council will mean that arts associations operating without funding will now receive grants from the government.
Creative infrastructure such as Malawi’s arts mecca, the Blantyre Cultural Centre, is in a dilapidated state and efforts to put it into a usable state are at a worrisome snail’s pace.
Apart from an arts and heritage council, artists have been calling for a stimulus package for the creative industries and synchronising the work of departments that deal with the performing arts and culture, museums and the enforcement of copyright laws among others.
Chikumbutso Ndaferankhande is the president of the Malawi Writers Union, a national writers’ body that looks into the welfare of creative writers and is an affiliate of the Pan African Writers Association based in Accra, Ghana.
Chikumbutso is an award-winning novelist and a Canon Collins scholar. This is a winning essay in the Canon Collins Troubling Power Essay Competition.