The fiasco of political machinations

The holy scriptures inform us towards the twilight episode of creation: ‘...God said, let us make man in our own image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea...’ and before God took a rest from His creative work He reflected on creation, ‘…and God saw every thing that he had made, and behold, it was very good...’ Gen 1v26, 31(AKJV). Man in his original state was no doubt perfect and mirrored the glory of God.

Over time in the Garden of Eden, man degenerated into something imperfect and corruptible, marking the beginning of the great controversy between God and Satan. In short, the misery man finds himself in today is a product of the sin committed by his forefathers in biblical times, but redemption came with the death of Christ.

The man Chris Mlalazi writes about has shamed the beauty and splendour he was adorned with by the Creator and has redefined his own self-image. I follow with fanaticism as this prolific playwright and writer employs his creative writing skills to demonstrate the extent to which man has transformed himself into a horrendous and fearful creature, redefining his environment and that of his fellow human beings in sheer disregard of commonly held societal and moral values.

In one of my expeditions through the valleys of creative writings, I came across an interesting review of Chris Mlalazi’s ‘Dancing with Life: Tales from the Township’, by Barbra Mhangami. In the review she noted that throughout his stories, Mlalazi depicts a mean spiritedness and a lack of conscience in most of his characters so that when she was done with the book, she felt a little queasy. His short story collection can also be seen as a reflection of the long suffering and the struggles Zimbabwean people living in a disintegrating society, characterised by land invasions, shortage of foodstuffs, collapsing health delivery system, breakdown of law and order, economic meltdown, soaring relations with international community leading to global isolation and loss of cultural values that define us as Zimbabweans, had to endure. I will not be persuaded to review the whole anthological package but rather would pay tribute to ‘Election Day’, where Chris laughs at the fiasco of political machinations happening in the country and invites his readers to join in the laughter at the stupidity of it all. I’m focusing on this short story for the sole reason that it has a bearing on the one I earmarked for review in the preceding paragraphs.

In his short story entitled ‘Cell 4072’, Mlalazi takes his readers through a historical journey travelled by revolutionary nationalist leaders in their quest for independence. Those familiar with the decolonisation of Africa would agree prior to that historical aeon, indigenous people were treated with contempt by the colonial regimes. Legal instruments calculated to create disparities in areas of political participation, economic opportunities and socio-cultural status were enacted and vigorously enforced. As the black people became conscious of their situation they formed political parties whose ideologies were crafted around the need to remove the colonial government by whatever means possible and reclaim their right to self-determination.

The colonial government’s response was the systematic arrest and detention of revolutionary leaders, as a way to crush the spirit of the revolution. Chris portrays those developments in the scene where Jeridan is arrested: ‘...Black colonial regime’s secret police in the year 10000... had handcuffed him, threw a hood over his heard, and bundled him into a grey van.’ And his compatriot, Brother, ‘... a firebrand critic of the regime who did not mince words had been whisked away from his Ragana congregation one snowy Sunday morning and bundled into a grey closed van.’ The manner in which these two were apprehended reflects insensitivity by colonisers to the feelings of the colonised.

In the story being reviewed, Chris presents a pre-independence scenario where his audience is allowed to dig deeper into our historical heritage and draw similarities and contrasts between the past and the present. As a shallow minded former History student, I know my past informs the present and also helps to predict the future, but the feeling I get from my reading of ‘Election Day’ and ‘Cell 4072’ is that a thin line exist to separate the past from the present at least as my reality counts, it’s only a change of personalities and cronies in power.

Long after independence it is quite disturbing that the general masses who were the pivot of revolutionary struggles are still subject to the very laws deemed oppressive, repressive, burdensome, and draconian during the colonial era. That reminds me of a peasant farmer I had seen scratching the barren ground under the scorching heat during the year when food shortages were experienced in our country. I had felt happy that the old man still had hope of better days, but it was also poignant for me as the incident happened at a time the country witnessed a political combat for the control of food distribution, which in my view was done along partisan lines.

Mlalazi sets and for the most part confines his story, covering a period of 30 years, in a single cramped cell that houses his main characters, Jeridan and Brother, but his ability to keep his readers entertained and captivated is so amazing. Perhaps having grown up in a politically tumultuous country much of what he conveys in his anthologies is more informed by his environment. There is no doubt that in a situation that required him to choose between military engagement and diplomacy, Chris would go for the latter. This can be discerned from the conversation between occupants of Cell 4072 who despite having been behind bars for 30 years had not lost their sense of humour and distaste for loss of lives and shedding of blood. This is captured in the scene where Jeridan asserts: ‘…so many lives and so much blood wasted where the word could have amicably resolved things for everyone.’

It is disquieting to note that, despite the ruthless colonial experiences, Africa our motherland is still preoccupied and obsessed with colossal blood-shedding as a way of settling dissenting opinions. A wave of protests experienced by the continent in the 21st Century has had a big telling that as Africans we are not yet ready to accept opposing views in harmony.

As the winds of change swept across Africa, business cartels saw an opportunity to create synergies and collaborations with influential nationalist leaders who were by this time still detained in colonial prisons for various political activities. The visit to prison by Sir Londi, a representative of an international business cartel, to make his business proposition to Jeridan should not have come at a better time than that. This is shown in the scene where Londi says, ‘…the wind of change is at last blowing over Europe, Jeridan, and we can’t ignore them.’ While business cartels saw business opportunities coming with the winds of change; indigenous people saw political emancipation, deliverance from colonial bondage, emerging economic opportunities, social transformation and so on. Mlalazi shows a compelling force behind change, it was both irresistible and inevitable, and all awaited it with a positive frame of mind.

The night of Londi’s visit had some of these changes written all over Cell 4072 and this is portrayed in the scene where Jeridan and Brother ‘...dined on a four course meal that would have shamed the famous cuisine of the internationally revered Table Mountain Hotel in Cape Town, the capital of the United States of Africa, and washed down with a bottle of vintage courtesy of the jail Superintendent.’ The benefactors of the colonial regime correctly read the changes in the political atmosphere and realigned themselves according to the changing political climate obtaining in Europe during that time.

In colonial prisons, bringing beer into the cell was an offence that carried a stiff penalty as beer was considered contraband. The irony here is the superintendent was the defender and custodian of the law that governed the operations of the correctional institution, but here he was breaking the very regulations he was mandated to enforce – which meant under the existing laws he should have been charged. But established friendly relations with the prospective presidential candidate on his side, the force of the colonial regime was most likely to deal with him harshly but once in power the independent white majority government was indubitably going to handle his case with kid gloves.

Having been in close contact with the operations of a modern prison system, I am deeply impressed by the degree of precision with which Chris portrays life behind bars. Being incarcerated means loss of freedoms, loss of autonomy, loss of initiative and loss of rights. Beating and battering of inmates are not allowed in principle but reality has seen it in action as a corrective measure. And at times grave crimes warranting prosecutions are committed against inmates by prison warders. Incisively, Chris examines the ugly face of imprisonment in the scene where Brother lost his tooth: ‘...he had swallowed it during a beating in the torture chambers.’ One might be prompted to say the scenario portrayed reflects the colonial prison system – but believe you me, such a system continues in contemporary correctional services.

If this is indeed true, then the current prisons/correctional system are one of the vestiges of the colonial periods requiring transformation and or reformation. Despite widespread condemnation of human rights abuses in correctional institutions, United Nations member countries have continued to plug their ears with sealing wax, subjecting offenders to inhuman or degrading treatment and depriving them of basic necessities of life such as medication, access to clean water, blankets and proper accommodation among other things, in sheer disregard to the promulgation of the United Nation’s Minimum Standards Rules for the Treatment of Offenders. Jeridan and his colleague, Brother, were not spared from such treatment hence the statement, ‘…we have suffered together for so many years in this cell in the hands of the black man.’

Against the backdrop of some politicians in postcolonial nations who have ruled for extensive terms of office, Chris Mlalazi employs his creative work to scoff and laugh at those political leaders who have clung to power for a long a time, even though age has taken its toll on them, and the people have weighed in and denounced their rule or misrule. This is well captured in the scene where Jeridan, realising his frailty says, ‘I am going to step down after a few years and give it to somebody else younger than me to carry on with the work of national rebuilding. I am an old man now and I don’t think I will be able to withstand the pressure that goes with such appointments.’ I get the understanding that no forms of coercion should be applied to make one realise that he/she is no longer serving the best interest of others and it’s high time to pave way for another person who is more energetic and responsive to communal needs.

The decision for an early exit is approved by Brother who says such an action would be a ‘mark of a great man...Even Imperialist Africa will revere your name, for you would have broken a record-[since"> no leader from formerly colonised country in White Europe has ever done that-all stick to power until they collapse at state house from old age, and often employ dirty and ruthless tactics to remain in power.’ Though it might appear he is trying to present his readers with a political circus with which to exercise their lungs, Chris is sincerely mocking the tendency of some leaders who have stuck to their throne much to the detriment of genuine national interest.

In spite of having suffered so much in the hands of the colonial regime, Jeridan seems not to have allowed the spirit of vengeance to creep into his mind and cloud his judgement, for he was prepared to make peace with himself first and with those who had persecuted him. In the conversation between Jeridan and Brother, the former says, ‘And I shall let them keep everything...after all, they are not to blame for the sins of their forefathers.’

Whether or not Jeridan’s statements were influenced by his prior conversation with Londi, I’m not sure. What is apparent, however, is that there is a paradigm shift in his thought processes something akin to true or genuine repentance. Chris is here preaching the gospel of reconciliation to those in or aspiring for higher political office – after all what would it profit a man to win his kingdom but fail to bind it together in love?

Londi seemed to have been eloquent enough in his speech to convince Jeridan that the business cartel he represented had the capacity to transform his life into a blissful and prosperous one, should he agree to embrace and endorse their proposals. This is derived in the scene where Londi says to Jeridan, ‘...just look at you, you are now an old man Jeridan, and if you play ball with us, we shall create you into a demigod, and you shall be worshipped internationally and of course, you shall not lack in anything.’ The offer is presented in such a sweet voice and language that Jeridan finds it irresistible – but before the acceptance of his proposals Londi had said, ‘And if you refuse, you are not walking out of this jail alive...’ In the field of diplomacy we call this a ‘stick and carrot’ approach and Jeridan correctly read the consequences of turning down the offer hence his was a positive response and he had shaken Londi’s hand as a sign of approval. In all the cited quotations, Chris uses his characters to refute the commonly held rhetoric that what politicians do while in office is for the common good. He raises a barrage of questions, look who wll play ball with the business cartel? Who will be made a demigod? Who will be worshipped internationally? Who will not lack in anything? The answer to all these questions is Jeridan, the potential presidential candidate for a vibrant revolutionary political party contesting for political space in a sphere dominated by Imperial Blacks.

Chris Mlalazi joins a bandwagon of playwrights and writers who have used their creative writing skills to document some of the social injustices brought to bear by the masses in postcolonial nations in Africa. Frantz Fanon in his treatise ‘The Wretched of Earth’ gives us an analysis of the psychology of the colonised and their path to liberation. Bearing singular insight into the rage of colonised peoples and the role of violence in historical change, he also incisively attacks post-independence disenfranchisement of the masses by the elite on one hand, and inter-tribal and inter-faith animosities on the other.

John Eppel and the late Julius Chingono’s ‘Together’ give us a mixture of stories and poems commenting on the often contradictory political process in postcolonial Zimbabwe. For the duo, the outbreak of violence during elections is symptomatic of something more portentous. Taken together, these two men challenge their audience, me included, to reflect on Zimbabwe’s lost decade (2000-2010). One is unflinchingly led to question some of the things that politicians do for political expediency. For instance, it is mind-boggling that an energetic young man can bite his lower lip, roll up the sleeves of his shirt, pick up a machete and ran after a frail old man just because he is related to an opposition supporter or he cast his vote where he preferred.

‘The Crocodile of Zambezi’ by Pen international award winning ‘dissident’ playwrights and writers Raisedon Baya and Chris Mlalazi, though so dark a prose, shed some insights into the ruthlessness or heartlessness man can exhibit in his pursuit of power. The twosome depict a scenario where political clout and statecraft have corrupted the reasoning and judgement of some leaders in Africa, making them insensitive to the needs of the masses, the very people who elected them into office. Ncube W. (1991) tells us that behind the facade of the constitutional democracy system in Zimbabwe lay an authoritarian political system, characterised by the proscription of democratic space, serious violations of basic human rights and the rule of law. In this scenario the creative imagination of playwrights and artists has been woven with what Terrence Ranger calls ‘patriotic narrative’, while creative works critical of the status quo are labelled ‘dissident narrative’. The ‘Crocodile of Zambezi’ which took two years of creative writing and two months of rehearsals was produced in a politically volatile environment just a few weeks before the country’s run-off elections of 27 June 2008. It does not come as a surprise the cast and artists came into contact with the authorities after their first performance.

In the earlier paragraphs I stated that I’m fanatic about Chris Mlalazi but I wouldn’t say why. Now let me revisit that and say the man is admired for his bravery and mastery of mortal combat with challenges besetting his internal environment. You will remember the biblical quotation cited in the beginning of this review. I said man in his original form was perfect and bore a resemblance to God. What the Voice of the Ghetto is attempting to do is to bring man to his sober senses and make him realise the damage he has done to his fellow beings and turn back to his original place in the Garden of Eden where he was resident before the fall.

When one looks at him he sees a missionary with an eternal gospel of love and compassion to preach unto all the corners of the earth before the Second Advent of Christ. It is my strong conviction and fervent hope that Mlalazi will continue dishing his audience with mouthwatering stuff as his environment gives him utterances.

In the spirit of Ubuntu let the fight for social justice and human rights through creative writing begin – after all, the pen is mightier than the sword. For interest’s sake, I would like to make a comparison between the two. On one hand, there is a pen which sheds ink and on the other there is a sword which sheds blood. When writers decide to commit their pens to paper sanity prevails but as soon as the military direct their swords against unarmed civilians insanity and mourning takes over, invoking the instincts of creative writers to respond. At times the sword has been used to silence creative writers and artists critical of government policies perpetuating social injustices and human rights abuses.

Scribes you still have the voice shine on!

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* Read ‘Cell 4702’.
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