African literature

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African literature is literature of or from Africa and includes oral
literature (or "orature", in the term coined by Ugandan scholar Pio
Zirimu).[1]
As George Joseph notes in his chapter on African literature
in Understanding Contemporary Africa, whereas European views
of literature often stressed a separation of art and content, African
awareness is inclusive:
"Literature" can also simply mean an artistic use of words for
the sake of art alone. [...]Traditionally, Africans do not
radically separate art from teaching. Rather than write or
sing for beauty in itself, African writers, taking their cue from
oral literature, use beauty to help communicate important
truths and information to society. Indeed, an object is
considered beautiful because of the truths it reveals and the
communities it helps to build.[2]

Contents

 1Oral literature
 2Precolonial literature
 3Colonial African literature
 4Postcolonial African literature
 5Contemporary developments
 6Literature published in Africa
 7Notable novels by African writers
 8Notable African poets
 9See also
 10References
 11Bibliography
 12External links

Oral literature[edit]
Oral literature (or orature) may be in prose or verse. The prose
is often mythological or historical and can include tales of
the trickster character. Storytellers in Africa sometimes
use call-and-response techniques to tell their stories. Poetry,
often sung, includes: narrative epic, occupational verse, ritual
verse, praise poems of rulers and other prominent people.
Praise singers, bards sometimes known as "griots", tell their
stories with music [3]. Also recited, often sung, are love
songs, work songs, children's songs, along
with epigrams, proverbs and riddles. These oral traditions exist
in many languages including Fula, Swahili, Hausa,
and Wolof [4].
In Algeria, oral poetry was an important part
of Berber traditions when the majority of the population was
illiterate. These poems, called Isefra, were used for aspects of
both religious and secular life. The religious poems included
devotions, prophetic stories, and poems honoring saints. The
secular poetry could be about celebrations like births and
weddings, or accounts of heroic warriors [5]. As another
example, in Mali, oral literature or folktales continue to be
broadcast on the radio in the native language Booma.[6]

Precolonial literature[edit]
Examples of pre-colonial African literature are numerous.
In Ethiopia, there is a substantial literature written
in Ge'ez going back at least to the fourth century AD; the best-
known work in this tradition is the Kebra Negast, or "Book of
Kings." One popular form of traditional African folktale is the
"trickster" story, in which a small animal uses its wits to survive
encounters with larger creatures. Examples of animal tricksters
include Anansi, a spider in the folklore of the Ashanti people
of Ghana; Ijàpá, a tortoise in Yoruba folklore of Nigeria;
and Sungura, a hare found in central and East African folklore.
[7]
 Other works in written form are abundant, namely in north
Africa, the Sahel regions of west Africa and on the Swahili
coast. From Timbuktu alone, there are an estimated 300,000 or
more manuscripts tucked away in various libraries and private
collections,[8] mostly written in Arabic but some in the native
languages (namely Fula and Songhai).[9] Many were written at
the famous University of Timbuktu. The material covers a wide
array of topics, including astronomy, poetry, law, history, faith,
politics, and philosophy.[10] Swahili literature similarly, draws
inspiration from Islamic teachings but developed under
indigenous circumstances. One of the most renowned and
earliest pieces of Swahili literature being Utendi wa
Tambuka or "The Story of Tambuka".
In Islamic times, North Africans such as Ibn Khaldun attained
great distinction within Arabic literature. Medieval north Africa
boasted universities such as those of Fes and Cairo, with
copious amounts of literature to supplement them.

Colonial African literature[edit]

The African works best known in the West from the periods of
colonization and the slave trade are primarily slave narratives,
such as Olaudah Equiano's The Interesting Narrative of the
Life of Olaudah Equiano (1789).
In the colonial period, Africans exposed to Western languages
began to write in those tongues. In 1911, Joseph Ephraim
Casely Hayford (also known as Ekra-Agiman) of the Gold
Coast (now Ghana) published what is probably the first African
novel written in English, Ethiopia Unbound: Studies in Race
Emancipation.[11] Although the work moves between fiction and
political advocacy, its publication and positive reviews in the
Western press mark a watershed moment in African literature.
During this period, African plays written in English began to
emerge. Herbert Isaac Ernest Dhlomo of South
Africa published the first English-language African play, The
Girl Who Killed to Save: Nongqawuse the Liberator in 1935.
In 1962, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o of Kenya wrote the first East
African drama, The Black Hermit, a cautionary tale about
"tribalism" (discrimination between African tribes).
Among the first pieces of African literature to receive significant
worldwide critical acclaim was Things Fall Apart, by Chinua
Achebe. Published in 1958, late in the colonial era, Things Fall
Apart analyzed the effect of colonialism on traditional African
society.[12]
African literature in the late colonial period (between the end
of World War I and independence) increasingly showed
themes of liberation, independence, and (among Africans in
French-controlled territories) négritude. One of the leaders of
the négritude movement, the poet and eventual President
of Senegal, Léopold Sédar Senghor, published in 1948 the first
anthology of French-language poetry written by
Africans, Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache
de langue française (Anthology of the New Black and
Malagasy Poetry in the French Language), featuring a preface
by the French existentialist writer Jean-Paul Sartre.[13]
For many writers this emphasis was not restricted to their
publishing. Many, indeed, suffered deeply and directly:
censured for casting aside his artistic responsibilities in order to
participate actively in warfare, Christopher Okigbo was killed in
battle for Biafra against the Nigerian movement of the
1960s' civil war; Mongane Wally Serote was detained under
South Africa's Terrorism Act No 83 of 1967 between 1969 and
1970, and subsequently released without ever having stood
trial; in London in 1970, his countryman Arthur Norje committed
suicide; Malawi's Jack Mapanje was incarcerated with neither
charge nor trial because of an off-hand remark at a university
pub; and, in 1995, Ken Saro-Wiwa was hanged by the Nigerian
junta.

Postcolonial African literature[edit]

With liberation and increased literacy since most African
nations gained their independence in the 1950s and 1960s,
African literature has grown dramatically in quantity and in
recognition, with numerous African works appearing in Western
academic curricula and on "best of" lists compiled at the end of
the 20th century. African writers in this period wrote both in
Western languages (notably English, French, and Portuguese)
and in traditional African languages such as Hausa.
Ali A. Mazrui and others mention seven conflicts as themes:
the clash between Africa's past and present, between tradition
and modernity, between indigenous and foreign, between
individualism and community, between socialism and
capitalism, between development and self-reliance and
between Africanity and humanity.[14] Other themes in this period
include social problems such as corruption, the economic
disparities in newly independent countries, and the rights and
roles of women. Female writers are today far better
represented in published African literature than they were prior
to independence.
In 1986, Wole Soyinka became the first post-independence
African writer to win the Nobel Prize in literature.
Previously, Algerian-born Albert Camus had been awarded the
prize in 1957.

Contemporary developments[edit]
There are a lot of literary productions in Africa since the
beginning of the current decade (2010), even though readers
do not always follow in large numbers.[15] One can also notice
the appearance of certain writings that break with
the academic style.[16] In addition, the shortage of literary critics
can be explored on the continent nowadays.[17] Literary events
seem to be very fashionable, including literary awards, some of
which can be distinguished by their original concepts. The case
of the Grand Prix of Literary Associations is quite illustrative.
[18]
 Brittle Paper, founded by Ainehi Edoro, has been described
as "Africa’s leading literary journal"[19].

Literature published in Africa[edit]

Inaugurated in 1980 and running till 2009, the Noma Award for
Publishing in Africa was presented for the outstanding work of
the year published in Africa.[20]

Notable novels by African writers[edit]

 Peter Abrahams (South Africa): Mine Boy, This Island
Now, A Wreath for Udomo
 Chinua Achebe (Nigeria): Arrow of God, No Longer At
Ease, Things Fall Apart, A Man of the People, Anthills of the
Savannah
 Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Nigeria): Purple Hibiscus, Half
of a Yellow Sun
 Fadhy Mtanga (Tanzania): Kizungumkuti, Huba, Fungate
 Christopher Zacharia Lameck (Tanzania): The Mythical
Father, Lost, ZtraceniEuropean Madness,
 José Eduardo Agualusa (Angola): Rainy
Season, Creole, The Book of Chameleons, My Father's
Wives
 Mohammed Naseehu Ali (Ghana): The Prophet of Zongo
Street
 Germano Almeida (Cape Verde): O dia das calças
roladas, The Last Will and Testament of Senhor da Silva
Araújo
 Elechi Amadi (Nigeria): The Concubine, The Great
Ponds, Sunset in Biafra
 Ayi Kwei Armah (Ghana): The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet
Born, Two Thousand Seasons
 Sefi Atta (Nigeria): Everything Good Will Come
 Ayesha Harruna Attah (Ghana): Harmattan Rain
 Mariama Bâ (Senegal): Une si longue lettre (So Long a
Letter)
 Nadifa Mohamed(Somalia) Black Mamba Boy, The Orchard
of Lost Souls
 Chris Barnard (South Africa): Bundu, Mahala
 Mongo Beti (Cameroon): The Poor Christ of Bomba
 Andre Brink (South Africa): 'n Droe Wit Seisoen (A Dry
White Season), Gerugte van Reen (Rumours of Rain)
 J. M. Coetzee (South Africa): Disgrace, Life & Times of
Michael K
 Mia Couto (Mozambique): Terra Sonâmbula (A
Sleepwalking Land)
 Ungulani Ba Ka Khosa (Mozambique): Ualalapi
 Luís Bernardo Honwana (Mozambique): Nós Matamos O
Cão-Tinhoso e Outros Contos, We Killed Mangy Dog and
Other Stories
 Tsitsi Dangarembga (Zimbabwe): Nervous Conditions
 Mohammed Dib (Algeria): La grande maison
 E. K. M. Dido (South Africa): 'n Stringetjie Blou Krale (A
String of Blue Beads), Die Storie van Monica Peters (The
Story of Monica Peters)
 Assia Djebar (Algeria): Les Enfants du Nouveau Monde
 K. Sello Duiker (South Africa): Thirteen Cents, The Quiet
Violence of Dreams
 Buchi Emecheta (Nigeria): The Bride Price, The Joys of
Motherhood
 Daniel Olorunfemi Fagunwa (Nigeria): Ogboju odẹ ninu igbo
irunmalẹ (The Forest of a Thousand Demons)
 Nuruddin Farah (Somalia): From a Crooked
Rib, Maps, Sweet and Sour Milk
 Athol Fugard (South Africa): Tsotsi
 Nadine Gordimer (South Africa): Burger's Daughter, The
Conservationist, July's People
 Alex La Guma (South Africa): In the Fog of the Seasons'
End, The Stone-Country, Time of the Butcherbird, A Walk in
the Night
 Bessie Head (Botswana): When Rain Clouds
Gather, Maru, A Question of Power
 Moses Isegawa (Uganda): Abyssinian Chronicles
 Rayda Jacobs (South Africa): The Slave Book, Eyes of the
Sky, Confessions of a Gambler
 Tahar Ben Jelloun (Morocco): The Sacred Night, The Sand
Child, This Blinding Absence of Light
 Cheikh Hamidou Kane (Senegal): L'Aventure Ambiguë
 Yasmina Khadra (Algeria): The Swallows of Kabul
 Camara Laye (Guinea): The African Child (L'Enfant
noir), The Radiance of the King
 Naguib Mahfouz (Egypt): The Beginning and the End, Cairo
Trilogy, Children of Gebelawi, Midaq Alley
 Charles Mangua (Kenya): A Tail in the Mouth
 Sarah Ladipo Manyika (Nigeria): In Dependence
 Dambudzo Marechera (Zimbabwe): The House of Hunger
 Dalene Matthee (South Africa): Kringe in 'n bos (Circles in a
Forest)
 Zakes Mda (South Africa): Ways of Dying, The Heart of
Redness
 Thomas Mofolo (South Africa/Lesotho): Chaka
 Bai Tamia Moore (Liberia): Murder in the Cassava Patch
 Meja Mwangi (Kenya): Carcase for Hounds, Going Down
River Road, Kill Me Quick
 Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o (Kenya): A Grain of
Wheat, Matigari, Petals of Blood, Weep Not, Child, Wizard
of the Crow
 Lewis Nkosi (South Africa): Mandela's Ego, Mating
Birds, Underground People
 Flora Nwapa (Nigeria): Efuru, Idu, One is Enough, Never
Again, Women are Different
 Nnedi Okorafor (Nigeria): Zahrah the Windseeker
 Ben Okri (Nigeria): The Famished Road
 Deon Opperman (South Africa): Donkerland (Dark
Land), Kruispad (Crossroad), Hartland (Heartland)
 Yambo Ouologuem (Mali): Le Devoir de Violence
 Alan Paton (South Africa): Cry, The Beloved Country
 Pepetela (Angola) : Muana Puó, Mayombe, A Gloriosa
Família
 Sol Plaatje (South Africa): Mhudi
 Nawal El Saadawi (Egypt) : Woman at Point Zero
 Tayeb Salih (Sudan): Season of Migration to the North
 Wilton Sankawulo (Liberia): Birds Are Singing
 Karel Schoeman (South Africa): n Ander Land (Another
Country), Na die Geliefde Land (Promised Land)
 Olive Schreiner (South Africa): The Story of an African Farm
 Benjamin Sehene (Rwanda): Le Feu sous la Soutane (Fire
under the Cassock)
 Ousmane Sembène (Senegal): Xala, The Black Docker (Le
Docker Noir), God's Bits of Wood (Les Bouts de Bois de
Dieu), The Last of the Empire (Le dernier de
l'Empire), Tribal Scars (Voltaïque)
 Wole Soyinka (Nigeria): The Interpreters (novel), Seasons of
Anomy,
 Amos Tutuola (Nigeria): The Palm Wine Drinkard, My Life in
the Bush of Ghosts, Simbi and the Satyr of the Dark
Jungle, Feather Woman of the Jungle, he Witch-Herbalist of
the Remote Town, Ajaiyi and his Inherited Poverty
 Marlene van Niekerk (South Africa): Triomf (Triumph)
 Yvonne Vera (Zimbabwe): Butterfly Burning
 José Luandino Vieira (Angola): Luanda
 Joseph Jeffrey Walters (Liberia): Guanya Pau: A Story of an
African Princess (1891)
 Birhanu Zerihun (Ethiopia): Ye'imba debdabbéwoch ("Tearful
Letters")

Notable African poets[edit]

 Chinua Achebe (Nigeria)
 Ama Ata Aidoo (Ghana)
 Jared Angira (Kenya)
 Kofi Anyidoho (Ghana)
 Kofi Awoonor (Ghana)
 Fadhy Mtanga (Tanzania)
 Breyten Breytenbach (South Africa)
 Dennis Brutus (South Africa)
 Abena Busia (Ghana)
 John Pepper Clark (Nigeria)
 José Craveirinha (Mozambique)
 Viriato Clemente da Cruz (Angola)
 Hadraawi (Somalia)
 Ingrid Jonker (South Africa)
 Jonathan Kariara (Kenya)
 Susan Kiguli (Uganda)
 Ahmadou Kourouma (Ivory Coast)
 Antjie Krog (South Africa)
 Jack Mapanje (Malawi)
 Eugene Marais (South Africa)
 Don Mattera (South Africa)
 Bai Tamia Moore (Liberia)
 Togara Muzanenhamo (Zimbabwe)
 Arthur Nortje (South Africa)
 Gabriel Okara (Nigeria)
 Nii Parkes (Ghana)
 Christopher Okigbo (Nigeria)
 Ben Okri (Nigeria)
 Okot P'Bitek (Uganda)
 Lenrie Peters (Gambia)
 Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo (Madagascar)
 Jacques Rabemananjara (Madagascar)
 Elie Rajaonarison (Madagascar)
 Ny Avana Ramanantoanina (Madagascar)
 Jean Verdi Salomon Razakandraina (Dox)(Madagascar)
 David Rubadiri (Malawi, Uganda)
 Tijan Sallah (Gambia)
 Léopold Sédar Senghor (Senegal)
  Bewketu Seyoum (Ethiopia)
 Warsan Shire
 Adam Small (South Africa)
 Wole Soyinka (Nigeria)
 Véronique Tadjo (Ivory Coast)
 Arménio Vieira (Cape Verde)
 Patricia Jabbeh Wesley (Liberia)

See also

African
literature
WRITTEN BY: 
 Harold Scheub
 Elizabeth Ann Wynne Gunner
See Article History
African literature, the body of traditional oral and
written literatures in Afro-Asiatic and African languages
together with works written by Africans in European
languages. Traditional written literature, which is limited
to a smaller geographic area than is oral literature, is most
characteristic of those sub-Saharan cultures that have
participated in the cultures of the Mediterranean. In
particular, there are written literatures in both Hausa and
Arabic, created by the scholars of what is now
northern Nigeria, and the Somali people have produced a
traditional written literature. There are also works written
in Geʿez (Ethiopic) and Amharic, two of the languages
of Ethiopia, which is the one part of Africa where
Christianity has been practiced long enough to be
considered traditional. Works written in European
languages date primarily from the 20th century onward.
The literature of South Africa in English and Afrikaans is
also covered in a separate article, South African
literature. See also African theatre.
The relationship between oral and written traditions and
in particular between oral and modern written literatures
is one of great complexity and not a matter of simple
evolution. Modern African literatures were born in the
educational systems imposed by colonialism, with models
drawn from Europe rather than existing African traditions.
But the African oral traditions exerted their own influence
on these literatures.

Oral Traditions
The nature of storytelling
The storyteller speaks, time collapses, and the members of
the audience are in the presence of history. It is a time of
masks. Reality, the present, is here, but with explosive
emotional images giving it a context. This is the
storyteller’s art: to mask the past, making it mysterious,
seemingly inaccessible. But it is inaccessible only to
one’s present intellect; it is always available to one’s heart
and soul, one’s emotions. The storyteller combines the
audience’s present waking state and its past condition of
semiconsciousness, and so the audience walks again in
history, joining its forebears. And history, always more
than an academic subject, becomes for the audience a
collapsing of time. History becomes the audience’s
memory and a means of reliving of an indeterminate and
deeply obscure past.
Storytelling is a sensory union of image and idea, a
process of re-creating the past in terms of the present; the
storyteller uses realistic images to describe the present
and fantasy images to evoke and embody the substance of
a culture’s experience of the past. These ancient fantasy
images are the culture’s heritage and the storyteller’s
bounty: they contain the emotional history of the culture,
its most deeply felt yearnings and fears, and they
therefore have the capacity to elicit strong emotional
responses from members of audiences. During a
performance, these envelop contemporary images—the
most unstable parts of the oral tradition, because they are
by their nature always in a state of flux—and thereby visit
the past on the present.
 Get exclusive access to content from our 1768 First
Edition with your subscription.Subscribe today
It is the task of the storyteller to forge the fantasy images
of the past into masks of the realistic images of the
present, enabling the performer to pitch the present to the
past, to visualize the present within a context of—and
therefore in terms of—the past. Flowing through this
potent emotional grid is a variety of ideas that have the
look of antiquity and ancestral sanction. Story occurs
under the mesmerizing influence of performance—the
body of the performer, the music of her voice, the
complex relationship between her and her audience. It is a
world unto itself, whole, with its own set of laws. Images
that are unlike are juxtaposed, and then the storyteller
reveals—to the delight and instruction of the members of
the audience—the linkages between them that render
them homologous. In this way the past and the present are
blended; ideas are thereby generated, forming
a conception of the present. Performance gives the images
their context and ensures the audience a ritual experience
that bridges past and present and shapes contemporary
life.
Storytelling is alive, ever in transition, never hardened in
time. Stories are not meant to be temporally frozen; they
are always responding to contemporary realities, but in a
timeless fashion. Storytelling is therefore not a
memorized art. The necessity for this continual
transformation of the story has to do with the regular
fusing of fantasy and images of the real, contemporary
world. Performers take images from the present and wed
them to the past, and in that way the past regularly shapes
an audience’s experience of the present. Storytellers
reveal connections between humans—within the world,
within a society, within a family—emphasizing an
interdependence and the disaster that occurs when
obligations to one’s fellows are forsaken. The artist makes
the linkages, the storyteller forges the bonds, tying past
and present, joining humans to their gods, to their leaders,
to their families, to those they love, to their deepest fears
and hopes, and to the essential core of their societies and
beliefs.
The language of storytelling includes, on the one hand,
image, the patterning of image, and the manipulation of
the body and voice of the storyteller and, on the other, the
memory and present state of the audience. A storytelling
performance involves memory: the recollection of each
member of the audience of his experiences with respect to
the story being performed, the memory of his real-life
experiences, and the similar memories of the storyteller. It
is the rhythm of storytelling that welds
these disparate experiences, yearnings, and thoughts into
the images of the story. And the images are known,
familiar to the audience. That familiarity is a crucial part
of storytelling. The storyteller does not craft a story out of
whole cloth: she re-creates the ancient story within the
context of the real, contemporary, known world. It is the
metaphorical relationship between these memories of the
past and the known images of the world of the present
that constitutes the essence of storytelling. The story is
never history; it is built of the shards of history. Images
are removed from historical contexts, then reconstituted
within the demanding and authoritative frame of the story.
And it is always a sensory experience, an experience of
the emotions. Storytellers know that the way to the mind
is by way of the heart. The interpretative effects of the
storytelling experience give the members of the audience
a refreshed sense of reality, a context for their experiences
that has no existence in reality. It is only when images of
contemporary life are woven into the ancient familiar
images that metaphor is born and experience becomes
meaningful.
Stories deal with change: mythic transformations of the
cosmos, heroic transformations of the culture,
transformations of the lives of everyman. The storytelling
experience is always ritual, always a rite of passage; one
relives the past and, by so doing, comes to insight about
present life. Myth is both a story and a fundamental
structural device used by storytellers. As a story, it reveals
change at the beginning of time, with gods as the central
characters. As a storytelling tool for the creation of
metaphor, it is both material and method. The
heroic epic unfolds within the context of myth, as does
the tale. At the heart of each of these genres is metaphor,
and at the core of metaphor is riddle with its associate,
proverb. Each of these oral forms is characterized by a
metaphorical process, the result of patterned imagery.
These universal art forms are rooted in the specificities of
the African experience.

African literature
KEY PEOPLE
 Meja Mwangi
 Ulli Beier
RELATED TOPICS
 Africa
 Literature
 South African literature
 Ethiopian literature
 Negritude
 Praise song
 Swahili literature
 Dilemma tale
 Coptic literature
 African arts

The riddle
 
A pot without an opening. (An egg.)
The silly man who drags his intestines. (A needle and
thread.)
In the riddle, two unlike, and sometimes unlikely, things
are compared. The obvious thing that happens during this
comparison is that a problem is set, then solved. But there
is something more important here, involving the riddle as
a figurative form: the riddle is composed of two sets, and,
during the process of riddling, the aspects of each of the
sets are transferred to the other. On the surface it appears
that the riddle is largely an intellectual rather than a poetic
activity. But through its imagery and the tension between
the two sets, the imagination of the audience is also
engaged. As they seek the solution to the riddle, the
audience itself becomes a part of the images and therefore
—and most significantly—of the metaphorical
transformation.
This may not seem a very complex activity on the level of
the riddle, but in this deceptively simple activity can be
found the essential core of all storytelling, including the
interaction of imagery in lyric poetry, the tale, and
the epic. In the same way as those oral forms, the riddle
works in a literal and in a figurative mode. During the
process of riddling, the literal mode interacts with the
figurative in a vigorous and creative way. It is
that play between the literal and the figurative, between
reality and fantasy, that characterizes the riddle: in that
relationship can be found metaphor, which explains why
it is that the riddle underlies other oral forms. The images
in metaphor by their nature evoke emotion;
the dynamics of metaphor trap those emotions in the
images, and meaning is caught up in that activity. So
meaning, even in such seemingly simple operations as
riddling, is more complex than it may appear.
The lyric
People were those who
Broke for me the string.
Therefore,
The place became like this to me,
On account of it,
Because the string was that which broke for me.
Therefore,
The place does not feel to me,
As the place used to feel to me,
On account of it.
For,
The place feels as if it stood open before me,
Because the string has broken for me.
Therefore,
The place does not feel pleasant to me,
On account of it.
(a San poem, from W.H.I. Bleek and L.C.
Lloyd, Specimens of Bushman Folklore [1911])
The images in African lyric interact in dynamic fashion,
establishing metaphorical relationships within the poem,
and so it is that riddling is the motor of the lyric. And, as
in riddles, so also in lyric: metaphor frequently involves
and invokes paradox. In the lyric, it is as if the singer
were stitching a set of riddles into a single richly textured
poem, the series of riddling connections responsible for
the ultimate experience of the poem. The singer organizes
and controls the emotions of the audience as he
systematically works his way through the levels of the
poem, carefully establishing the connective threads that
bring the separate metaphorical sets into the poem’s
totality. None of the separate riddling relationships exists
divorced from those others that compose the poem. As
these riddling relationships interact and interweave, the
poet brings the audience to a close, intense sense of the
meaning of the poem. Each riddling relationship provides
an emotional clue to the overall design of the poem.
Further clues to meaning are discovered by the audience
in the rhythmical aspects of the poem, the way the poet
organizes the images, the riddling organization itself, and
the sound of the singer’s voice as well as the movement
of the singer’s body. As in the riddle, everything in the
lyric is directed to the revelation of metaphor.
The proverb
Work the clay while it is fresh.
Wisdom killed the wise man.

The African proverb seems initially to be a hackneyed

expression, a trite leftover repeated until it loses all force.
But proverb is also performance, it is also metaphor, and
it is in its performance and metaphorical aspects that it
achieves its power. In one sense, the experience of a
proverb is similar to that of a riddle and a lyric poem:
different images are brought into a relationship that
is novel, that provides insight. When one experiences
proverbs in appropriate contexts, rather than in isolation,
they come to life. In the riddle the poser provides the two
sides of the metaphor. In lyric poetry the two sides are
present in the poem but in a complex way; the members
of the audience derive their aesthetic experience from
comprehending that complexity. The words of the proverb
are by themselves only one part of the metaphorical
experience. The other side of the riddle is not to be found
in the same way it is in the riddle and the lyric. The
proverb establishes ties with its metaphorical equivalent
in the real life of the members of the audience or with the
wisdom of the past. The words of the proverb are a riddle
waiting to happen. And when it happens, the African
proverb ceases to be a grouping of tired words.
The tale
The riddle, lyric, and proverb are the materials that are at
the dynamic centre of the tale. The riddle contains within
it the possibilities of metaphor; and the proverb elaborates
the metaphorical possibilities when the images of the tale
are made lyrical—that is, when they are rhythmically
organized. Such images are drawn chiefly from two
repertories: from the contemporary world (these are the
realistic images) and from the ancient tradition (these are
the fantasy images). These diverse images are brought
together during a storytelling performance by their
rhythmic organization. Because the fantasy images have
the capacity to elicit strong emotional reactions from
members of the audience, these emotions are the raw
material that is woven into the image organization by the
patterning. The audience thereby becomes an integral part
of the story by becoming a part of the metaphorical
process that moves to meaning. And meaning, therefore,
is much more complex than an obvious homily that may
be readily available on the surface of the tale.
This patterning of imagery is the main instrument that
shapes a tale. In the simplest of tales, a model is
established, and then it is repeated in an almost identical
way. In a Xhosa story an ogre chases a woman and her
two children. With each part of the story, as the ogre
moves closer and as the woman and her children are more
intensely imperiled, a song organizes the emotions of
helplessness, of menace, and of terror, even as it moves
the story on its linear path:
Qwebethe, Qwebethe, what do you want?
I’m leaving my food behind on the prairie,
I’m leaving it behind,
I’m leaving it behind.

With little more than a brief introduction and a quick

close, the storyteller develops this tale. There is an
uninterrupted linear movement of a realistic single
character fleeing from a fantasy ogre—from a conflict to
a resolution. But that fantasy and that reality are
controlled by the lyrical centre of the tale, and that
seemingly simple mechanism provides the core for
complexity. That linear movement, even in the simplest
stories, is subverted by a cyclical movement—in this case,
the song—and that is the engine of metaphor. It is the
cyclical movement of the tale that makes it possible to
experience linear details and images in such a way that
they become equated one with the other. So it is that the
simplest tale becomes a model for more-complex
narratives. That lyrical centre gives the tale a potential for
development.
In a more complex tale, the storyteller moves two
characters through three worlds, each of those worlds
seemingly different. But by means of that lyrical pulse,
the rhythmical ordering of those worlds brings them into
such alignment that the members of the audience
experience them as the same. It is this discernment of
different images as identical that results in complex
structures, characters, events, and meanings. And what
brings those different images into this alignment is poetry
—more specifically, the metaphorical character of the
lyrical poem. The very composition of tales makes it
possible to link them and to order them metaphorically.
 The possibilities of epic are visible in the simplest of
tales, and so also are the possibilities of the novel.
The trickster tale, as it does with so much of the oral
tradition, provides insights into this matter of the
construction of stories. Masks are the weapons of the
trickster: he creates illusions, bringing the real world and
the world of illusion into temporary, shimmering
proximity, convincing his dupe of the reality of metaphor.
That trickster and his antic activities are another way of
describing the metaphorical motor of storytelling.

SIMILAR TOPICS
 English literature
 French literature
 Arabic literature
 American literature
 Italian literature
 German literature
 Spanish literature
 Japanese literature
 Latin American literature
 Chinese literature
Heroic poetry
 
Hero who surpasses other heroes!
Swallow that disappears in the clouds,
Others disappearing into the heavens!
Son of Menzi!
Viper of Ndaba!
Erect, ready to strike,
It strikes the shields of men!
Father of the cock!
Why did it disappear over the mountains?
It annihilated men!
That is Shaka,
Son of Senzangakhona,
Of whom it is said, Bayede!
You are an elephant!
(from a heroic poem dedicated to the Zulu chief Shaka)
It is in heroic poetry, or panegyric, that lyric and image
come into their most obvious union. As in the tale and as
in the lyric, riddle, and proverb, the essence of panegyric
is metaphor, although the metaphorical connections are
sometimes somewhat obscure. History is more clearly
evident in panegyric, but it remains fragmented history,
rejoined according to the poetic intentions of the bard.
Obvious metaphorical connections are frequently made
between historical personages or events and images of
animals, for example. The fantasy aspects of this kind of
poetry are to be found in its construction, in the merging
of the real and the animal in metaphorical ways. It is
within this metaphorical context that the hero is described
and assessed. As in other forms of oral tradition, emotions
associated with both historical and nonhistorical images
are at the heart of meaning in panegyric. It is the lyrical
rhythm of panegyric that works such emotions into form.
In the process, history is reprocessed and given new
meaning within the context of contemporary experience.
It is a dual activity: history is thereby redefined at the
same time that it shapes experiences of the present.
Among the Tuareg of western Africa, a stringed
instrument often accompanies the creation of such poetry,
and the main composers are women.
The Songhai have mabe, the professional bards; they are
present at all rites of passage, celebrating, accompanying,
and cushioning the transformation being experienced. In
Mauritania it is the iggiw (plural iggawen) who creates
heroic poetry and who plays the lute while singing the
songs of the warriors. The diare (plural diarou) is the
bard among the Soninke. He goes to battle with the
soldiers, urging them, placing their martial activities
within the context of history, building their acts within the
genealogies of their family. Drums and trumpets
sometimes accompany the maroka among the Hausa.
When a king is praised, the accompaniment becomes
orchestral. Yoruba bards chant the ijala, singing of
lineage, and, with the oriki, saluting the notable. Among
the Hima of Uganda, the bard is the omwevugi. In the
evenings, he sings of the omugabe, the king, and of men
in battle and of the cattle. The mbongi wa ku pfusha is the
bard among the Tonga of Mozambique. He too sings of
the glories of the past, creating poetry about chiefs and
kings.
The images vary, their main organizing implement being
the subject of the poem. It is the metrical ordering of
images, including sound and motion, that holds the poem
together, not the narrative of history.
The epic
In the epic can be found the merging of various frequently
unrelated tales, the metaphorical apparatus, the
controlling mechanism found in the riddle and lyric, the
proverb, and heroic poetry to form a larger narrative. All
of this centres on the character of the hero and a gradual
revelation of his frailty, uncertainties, and torments; he
often dies, or is deeply troubled, in the process of bringing
the culture into a new dispensation often prefigured in his
resurrection or his coming into knowledge. The mythical
transformation caused by the creator gods and culture
heroes is reproduced precisely in the acts and the cyclical,
tortured movements of the hero.
An epic may be built around a genealogical system, with
parts of it developed and embellished into a story. The
epic, like the heroic poem, contains historical references
such as place-names and events; in the heroic poem these
are not greatly developed. When they are developed in an
epic, they are built not around history but around a
fictional tale. The fictional tale ties the historical episode,
person, or place-name to the cultural history of the
people. In an oral society, oral genres include history (the
heroic poem) and imaginative story (the tale). The epic
combines the two, linking the historical episode to the
imaginative tale. Sometimes, myth is also a part of epic,
with emphasis on origins. The tale, the heroic poem,
history, and myth are combined in the epic. In an echo of
the tale—where the emphasis is commonly on a central
but always nonhistorical character—a single historical or
nonhistorical character is the centre of the epic. And at the
core of the epic is that same engine composed of the
riddle, the lyric, and the proverb.
Much is frequently made of the psychology of this central
character when he appears in the epic. He is given greater
detail than the tale character, given deeper dimension. The
epic performer remembers the great events and turning
points of cultural history. These events change the culture.
In the epic these elements are tied to the ancient images of
the culture (in the form of tale and myth), an act that
thereby gives these events cultural sanction. The tale and
myth lend to the epic (and, by inference, to history) a
magical, supernatural atmosphere: all of nature is touched
in the Malagasy epic Ibonia; in the West African
epic Sunjata, magic keeps Sumanguru in charge and
enables Sunjata to take over. It is a time of momentous
change in the society. In Ibonia there are major alterations
in the relationship between men and women;
in Sunjata and in the epic Mwindo of the Nyanga people
of Congo there are major political changes.
But, in Mwindo, why was Mwindo such a trickster? He
was, after all, a great hero. And why must he be taught by
the gods after he has established his heroic credentials?
Central to this question is the notion of the transitional
phase—of the betwixt and between, of the someone or
something that crosses yet exists between boundaries.
There is a paradox in Mwindo’s vulnerability—how, after
all, can a hero be vulnerable?—but more important is his
nonmoral energy during a period of change. Mwindo is a
liminal hero-trickster: he is liminal while he seeks his
father, and then he becomes liminal again at the hands of
the gods. “Out there” is where the learning, the
transformation, occurs. The trickster energy befits and
mirrors this in-between period, as no laws are in
existence. There is change and transformation, but it is
guided by a vision: in the myths, it is god’s vision for the
cosmos; in the tales, it is the society’s vision for
completeness; in the epics, it is the hero’s vision for a new
social dispensation.
The heroic epic is a grand blending of tale and myth,
heroic poetry and history. These separate genres are
combined in the epic, and separate epics contain a greater
or lesser degree of each—history (and, to a lesser extent,
poetry) is dominant in Sunjata, heroic poetry and tale
in Ibonia, and tale and myth (and, to a lesser extent,
poetry) in Mwindo. Oral societies have these separate
categories: history, the imaginative tale, heroic poetry,
myth, and epic. Epic, therefore, is not simply history.
History exists as a separate genre. The essential
characteristic of epic is not that it is history but that it
combines history and tale, fact and fancy, and worlds of
reality and fantasy. The epic becomes the grand
summation of the culture because it takes major turning
points in history (always with towering historical or
nonhistorical figures who symbolize these turning points)
and links them to tradition, giving the changes their
sanction. The epic hero may be revolutionary, but he does
not signal a total break with the past. Continuity is
stressed in epic—in fact, it is as if the shift in the direction
of the society is a return to the paradigm envisioned by
ancient cultural wisdom. The effect of the epic is to
mythologize history, to bring history to the essence of the
culture, to give history the resonance of the ancient roots
of the culture as these are expressed in myth, imaginative
tale (and motif), and metaphor. In heroic poetry, history is
fragmented, made discontinuous. In epic these
discontinuous images are given a new form, that of the
imaginative tale. And the etiological aspects of history
(that is, the historical alteration of the society) are tied to
the etiology of mythology—in other words, the acts of the
mortal hero are tied to the acts of the immortals.
History is not the significant genre involved in the epic. It
is instead tale and myth that organize the images of
history and give those images their meaning. History by
itself has no significance: it achieves significance when it
is juxtaposed to the images of a tradition grounded in tales
and myths. This suggests the great value that oral
societies place on the imaginative traditions: they are
entertaining, certainly, but they are also major organizing
devices. As the tales take routine, everyday experiences of
reality and—by placing them in the fanciful context of
conflict and resolution with the emotion-evoking motifs
of the past—give them a meaning and a completeness that
they do not actually have, so in epic is history given a
form and a meaning that it does not possess. This
imaginative environment revises history, takes historical
experiences and places them into the context of the
culture, and gives them cultural meaning. The epic is a
blending, then, of the ancient culture as it is represented
through imaginative tradition with historical events and
personages. The divine trickster links heaven and earth,
god and human; the epic hero does the same but also links
fancy and reality, myth and history, and cultural
continuity and historical disjunction.
What is graphically clear in the
epics Ibonia and Sunjata is that heroic poetry, in the form
of the praise name, provides a context for the evolution of
a heroic story. In both of those epics, the panegyric forms
a pattern, the effect of which is to tie the epic hero
decisively and at the same time to history and to the gods.
Those epics, as well as Mwindo, dramatize the rite of
passage of a society or a culture: the hero’s movement
through the familiar stages of the ritual becomes a poetic
metaphor for a like movement of the society itself. The
tale at the centre of the epic may be as straightforward as
any tale in the oral tradition. But that tale is linked to a
complex of other tales, the whole given an illusion of
poetic unity by the heroic poetry, which in turn provides a
lyrical rhythm.
Storytelling is the mythos of a society: at the same time
that it is conservative, at the heart of nationalism, it is the
propelling mechanism for change. The struggle between
the individual and the group, between the traditions that
support and defend the rights of the group and the sense
of freedom that argues for undefined horizons of the
individual—this is the contest that characterizes
the hero’s dilemma, and the hero in turn is the
personification of the quandary of the society itself and of
its individual members.

Oral Traditions And The

Written Word
Oral and written storytelling traditions have had a parallel
development, and in many ways they have influenced
each other. Ancient Egyptian scribes, early Hausa and
Swahili copyists and memorizers, and contemporary
writers of popular novellas have been the obvious and
crucial transitional figures in the movement from oral to
literary traditions. What happened among the Hausa and
Swahili was occurring elsewhere in Africa—among
the Fulani, in northern Ghana among the Guang,
in Senegal among the Tukulor and Wolof, and
in Madagascar and Somalia.
The linkage between oral tradition and the written word is
most obviously seen in pulp literature: the Onitsha market
literature of Nigeria; the popular fiction of Accra, Ghana;
the popular love and detective literature of Nairobi; the
visualizing of story in the complex comic strips sold in
shops in Cape Town. But the linkage is also a crucial
characteristic of more-serious and more-complex fiction.
One cannot fully appreciate the works of Chinua
Achebe or Ousmane Sembene without placing them into
the context of Africa’s classical period, its oral tradition.
To be sure, the Arabic, English, French, and Portuguese
literary traditions along with Christianity and Islam and
other effects of colonialism in Africa also had
a dynamic impact on African literature, but African
writers adapted those alien traditions and made them their
own by placing them into these African classical frames.
History and myth
As is the case with the oral tradition, written literature is a
combination of the real and the fantastic. It combines, on
the one hand, the real (the contemporary world) and
history (the realistic world of the past) and, on the
other, myth and hero, with metaphor being the agent of
transformation. This is the alchemy of the literary
experience. Literature is atomized, fragmented history.
Transformation is the crucial activity of the story, its
dynamic movement. The writer is examining the
relationship of the reader with the world and with history.
In the process of this examination, the writer invents
characters and events that correspond to history but are
not history. At the centre of the story is myth, the fantasy
element, a character or event that moves beyond reality,
though it is always rooted in the real. In the oral tale this
is clearly the fantasy character; so it is, in a complex,
refracted way, in written literature.
Myth, which is deeply, intensely emotional, has to do
with the gods and creation, with the essence of a belief
system; it is the imaged embodiment of a philosophical
system, the giving of form to thought and emotion. It is
the driving force of a people, that emotional force that
defines a people; it is the everlasting form of a culture,
hence its link to the gods, to the heavens, to the forever.
In mythic imagery is the embodiment of significant
emotions—the hopes, fears, dreams, and nightmares—of
a people. History—the story of a people, their institutions,
and their community—is the way one likes to think things
happened, in the real world. The hero is everyman,
moving through a change, a transformation, and so
moving into the myth, the essence, of his history. He
thereby becomes a part of it, representative of it,
embodying the culture. The hero is everyman with myth
inside him. He has been mythicized; story does that.
Metaphor is the transformational process, the movement
from the real to the mythic and back again to the real—
changed forever, because one has become mythicized,
because one has moved into history and returned with the
elixir.
In serious literary works, the mythic fantasy characters
are often derived from the oral tradition; such characters
include the Fool in Sheikh Hamidou Kane’s Ambiguous
Adventure (1961), Kihika (and the mythicized Mugo)
in Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s A Grain of Wheat (1967),
Michael K in J.M. Coetzee’s Life and Times of Michael
K (1983), Dan and Sello in Bessie Head’s A Question of
Power (1973), Mustapha in al-Ṭayyib Ṣāliḥ’s Season of
Migration to the North (1966), and Nedjma in Kateb
Yacine’s Nedjma (1956). These are
the ambiguous, charismatic shapers, those with
connections to the essence of history. In each case, a real-
life character moves into a relationship with a mythic
character, and that movement is the movement of
the hero’s becoming a part of history, of culture. The real-
life character is the hero who is in the process of being
created: Samba Diallo, Mugo, the doctor, Elizabeth, the
narrator, or the four pilgrims. Myth is the stuff of which
the hero is being created. History is the real, the past, the
world against which this transformation is occurring and
within which the hero will move. The real contemporary
world is the place from which the hero comes and to
which the hero will return. Metaphor is the hero’s
transformation.
The image of Africa, then, is that rich combination of
myth and history, with the hero embodying the essence of
the history, or battling it, or somehow having a
relationship with it by means of the fantasy mythic
character. It is in this relationship between reality and
fantasy, the shaped and the shaper, that the story has its
power: Samba Diallo with the Fool, Mugo with Kihika
(and the mythicized Mugo), the doctor with Michael K,
Elizabeth with Dan and Sello, the narrator with Mustapha,
the four pilgrims with Nedjma. This relationship, which is
a harbinger of change, occurs against a historical
backdrop of some kind, but that backdrop is not the image
of Africa: that image is the relationship between the
mythical character and African/European history.
The fantasy character provides access to history, to the
essence of history. It is the explanation of the historical
background of the novels. The hero is the person who is
being brought into a new relationship with that history, be
it the history of a certain area—Kenya or South
Africa or Algeria, for example—or of a wider area—of
Africa generally or, in the case of A Question of Power,
the history of the world. These are the keys, then: the hero
who is being shaped, the fantasy character who is the
ideological and spiritual material being shaped and who is
also the artist or shaper, and the larger issues, the
historical panorama. The fantasy character is crucial: he is
the artist’s palette, the mythic element of the story. This
character is the heart and the spiritual essence of history.
This is the Fool, Kihika, Michael K, Dan and Sello,
Mustapha, Nedjma. Here is where reality and fantasy,
history and fiction blend, the confluence that is at the
heart of story. The real-life character, the hero, comes into
a relationship with that mythic figure, and so the
transformation begins, as the hero moves through an
intermediary period into history. It is the hero’s
identification with history that makes it possible for us to
speak of the hero as a hero. This movement of a realistic
character into myth is metaphor, the blending of two
seemingly unlike images. It is the power of the story, the
centre of the story, as Samba Diallo moves into the Fool,
as Mugo moves into Kihika, as the doctor moves into
Michael K, as Elizabeth moves into Dan and Sello, as the
narrator moves into Mustapha, as the four pilgrims move
into Nedjma. In this movement the oral tradition is
revealed as alive and well in literary works. The kinds of
imagery used by literary storytellers and the patterned
way those reality and fantasy images are organized in
their written works are not new. The materials of
storytelling, whether in the oral or written tradition, are
essentially the same.

The influence of oral traditions on

modern writers
Themes in the literary traditions of contemporary Africa
are worked out frequently within the strictures laid down
by the imported religions Christianity and Islam and
within the struggle between traditional and modern,
between rural and newly urban, between genders, and
between generations. The oral tradition is clearly evident
in the popular literature of the marketplace and the major
urban centres, created by literary storytellers who are
manipulating the original materials much as oral
storytellers do, at the same time remaining faithful to the
tradition. Some of the early writers sharpened their
writing abilities by translating works into African
languages; others collected oral tradition; most
experienced their apprenticeships in one way or another
within the contexts of living oral traditions.
There was a clear interaction between the deeply rooted
oral tradition and the developing literary traditions of the
20th century. That interaction is revealed in the placing of
literary works into the forms of the oral tradition. The
impact of the epic on the novel, for instance, continues to
influence writers today. The oral tradition in the work of
some of the early writers of the 20th century—Amos
Tutuola of Nigeria, D.O. Fagunwa in Yoruba, Violet
Dube in Zulu, S.E.K. Mqhayi in Xhosa, and Mario
António in Portuguese—is readily evident. Some of these
writings were merely imitations of the oral tradition and
were therefore not influential. Such antiquarians did little
more than retell, recast, or transcribe materials from the
oral tradition. But the work of writers such as Tutuola had
a dynamic effect on the developing literary tradition; such
works went beyond mere imitation.
The most successful of the early African writers knew
what could be done with the oral tradition; they
understood how its structures and images could be
transposed to a literary mode, and they were able to
distinguish mimicry from organic growth. Guybon Sinxo
explored the relationship between oral tradition and
writing in his popular Xhosa novels, and A.C. Jordan (in
Xhosa), O.K. Matsepe (in Sotho), and R.R.R. Dhlomo (in
Zulu) built on that kind of writing, establishing new
relationships not only between oral and written materials
but between the written and the written—that is, between
the writers of popular fiction and those writers who
wished to create a more serious form of literature. The
threads that connect these three categories of artistic
activity are many, they are reciprocal, and they are
essentially African, though there is no doubt that there
was also interaction with European traditions. Writers in
Africa today owe much to African oral tradition and to
those authors who have occupied the space between the
two traditions, in an area of creative interaction.
Literatures In African
Languages
Ethiopian
Ethiopian literatures are composed in several
languages: Geʿez, Amharic, Tigrinya, Tigré, Oromo, and
Harari. Most of the literature in Ethiopia has been
in Geʿez and Amharic. The classical language is Geʿez,
but over time Geʿez literature became the domain of a
small portion of the population. The more
common spoken language, Amharic, became widespread
when it was used for political and religious purposes to
reach a larger part of the population.
Geʿez was the literary language in Ethiopia from a very
early period, most importantly from the 13th century.
The Kebra nagast (Glory of Kings), written from 1314 to
1322, relates the birth of Menelik—the son of Solomon
and Makada, the queen of Sheba—who became the king
of Ethiopia. The work became a crucial part of the
literature and culture of Ethiopia. Royal chronicles were
written, and there was some secular poetry. But most of
the writing was religious in nature and tone. Many
translations of religious works were produced, as were
works having to do with the lives of Zagwe kings. In the
15th century, Ta’amra Maryam (The Miracles of Mary)
was written, and this was to become a major work in
Ethiopia. There were also translations from Arabic.
At the end of the 19th century, missionaries brought
the printing press to Ethiopia, and books were published
in Amharic. Early Amharic works such as Mist’ire
Sillase (1910–11; “The Mystery of the Trinity”) were
rooted in traditional literary works. Newspapers in
Amharic began to appear in 1924 and 1925, and there
were translations of European literary works, including an
Amharic translation of John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s
Progress, by Gabra Giyorgis Terfe, that was to influence
later Amharic literary work.
Two writers created the foundation for the Amharic
literary tradition. The first novel written in Amharic
was Libb-waled tarik (1908; “An Imagined Story”),
by Afawark Gabra Iyasus. The oral storytelling tradition
is clearly in evidence in this novel, in which a girl
disguised as a boy becomes the centre of complex love
involvements, the climax of which includes the
conversion of a love-smitten king to Christianity. Heruy
Walda Sellasse, an Ethiopian foreign minister who
became the country’s first major writer, wrote two novels
that are critical of child marriage and that extol
Christianity and Western technology. But he was also
critical of the Christian church and proposed in one of his
novels its reform. In his second novel, Haddis
alem (1924; “The New World”), he wrote of a youth who
is educated in Europe and who, when he returns to
Ethiopia, experiences clashes between his European
education and the traditions of his past. Drama was also
developed at this time. Playwrights included Tekle
Hawaryat Tekle Maryam, who wrote a comedy in 1911,
Yoftahe Niguse, and Menghistu Lemma, who wrote plays
that satirized the conflict between tradition and the West.
Poetry included works in praise of the Ethiopian emperor.
Gabra Egzi’abeher frequently took an acerbic view of
traditional life and attitudes in his poetry.
After World War II, important writers continued to
compose works in Amharic. Mekonnin Indalkachew
wrote Silsawi Dawit (1949–50; “David III”), Ye-dem
zemen (1954–1955; “Era of Blood”), and T’aytu
Bit’ul (1957–58), all historical novels. Girmachew Tekle
Hawaryat wrote the novel Araya (1948–49), about the
journeying of the peasant Araya to Europe to be educated
and his struggle to decide whether to remain there or
return to Africa. One of Ethiopia’s most popular novels, it
explores generational conflict as well as the conflict
between tradition and modernism. Kabbada Mika’el
became a significant playwright, biographer, and
historian. Other writers also dealt with the conflict
between the old and the new, with issues of social justice,
and with political problems. Central themes in post-World
War II Amharic literature are the relationship between
humans and God, the difficulties of life, and the
importance of humility and acceptance. Kabbada Mika’el
wrote drama reinforcing Christian values, attacking
materialism, and exploring historical events. Taddasa
Liban wrote short stories that examine the relationship
between the old and the new in Ethiopian society. Asras
Asfa Wasan wrote poetry and historical novels about
political events, including the military coup attempted
against Emperor Haile Selassie I in December 1960.
Writers such as Mengistu Gedamu and P’awlos Nyonyo
became more and more concerned in their works with
social issues, and the widespread struggle between
tradition and modernism was debated. Novelists looked
further afield and wrote about apartheid in South
Africa and the African nationalist leader Patrice
Lumumba. At the turn of the 21st century there was also a
concern with preserving traditional materials in Amharic.

Hausa
The first novels written in Hausa were the result of a
competition launched in 1933 by the Translation Bureau
in northern Nigeria. One year later the bureau
published Muhammadu Bello’s Gandoki, in which its
hero, Gandoki, struggles against the British colonial
regime. Bello does in Gandoki what many writers were
doing in other parts of Africa during this period: he
experiments with form and content. His novel blends the
Hausa oral tradition and the novel, resulting in a story
patterned on the heroic cycle; it also introduces a strong
thread of Islamic history. Didactic elements, however, are
awkwardly interposed and severely
dilute Gandoki’s aesthetic content (as often happened in
other similarly experimental African novels). But Bello’s
efforts would eventually give rise to a more sophisticated
tradition of novel writing in Hausa. His experimentation
would also find its most successful expression in Amos
Tutola’s English-language novel The Palm-Wine
Drinkard (1952).
It is possible that written Hausa goes back as far as the
14th or 15th century. Arabic writing among the Hausa
dates from the end of the 15th century. Early poets
included Ibn al-Ṣabbāgh and Muhammad al-Barnāwī.
Other early writers in Arabic were Abdullahi Sikka and
Sheikh Jibrīl ibn ʿUmar. At the beginning of the 19th
century, the Hausa language was written in an
Arabic script called ajami. In 1903, under the influence of
the British, the Latin alphabet was added. Nana Asma’u
wrote poetry, primarily religious, in Arabic, Hausa, and
Fula in Arabic ajami script.
Islamic Hausa poetry was a continuation of Arabic
classical poetry. There was also secular poetry, including
the war song of Abdullahi dan Fodio. Usman dan Fodio,
Abdullahi’s older brother and the founder of the Fulani
empire in the first decade of the 19th century,
wrote Wallahi Wallahi (“By God, By God”), which dealt
with the clash between religion and contemporary
political reality. Social problems were also considered
by Alhaji Umaru in his poem Wakar talauci da
wadata (1903; “Song of Poverty and of Wealth”). There
was poetic reaction to the presence of British colonial
forces: Malam Shi’itu’s Bakandamiya (“Hippo-Hide
Whip”) and Alhaji Umaru’s Zuwan nasara (“Arrival of
the Christians”). Much poetry dealt with the Prophet
Muhammad and other Islamic leaders. There was mystical
poetry as well, especially among the Sufi. Religious and
secular poetry continued through the 20th century and
included the work of Garba Affa, Sa’adu Zungur, Mudi
Sipikin, Na’ibi Sulaimanu Wali, and Aliyu Na Mangi, a
blind poet from Zaria. Salihu Kontagora and Garba
Gwandu emphasized the need for an accumulation of
knowledge in the contemporary world. Mu’azu Hadeja
wrote didactic poetry. Religious and didactic poetry
continue to be written among the Hausa.
The novel Shaihu Umar, by Abubakar Tafawa Balewa,
a prime minister of the Federation of Nigeria, is set in a
Hausa village and Egypt. Jiki magayi (1955; “You Will
Pay for the Injustice You Caused”), also a Translation
Bureau prizewinner, was written by Rupert East and J.
Tafida Wusasa. It is a novel of love, and it moves from
realism to fantasy. Idon matambayi (“The Eye of the
Inquirer”), by Muhammadu Gwarzo, and Ruwan
bagaja (1957; The Water of Cure), by Alhaji Abubakar
Imam, mingle African and Western oral tradition with
realism. Nagari na kowa (1959; “Good to Everyone”), by
Jabiru Abdullahi, is the story of Salihi, who comes to
represent traditional Islamic virtues in a world in which
such virtues are endangered. Nuhu Bamali’s Bala da
Babiya (1954; “Bala and Babiya”) deals with conflicts in
an urban dwelling. Ahmadu Ingawa’s Iliya ʿdam
Maikarfi (1959; The Story of Iliya Dam Maikarfi) has to
do with Iliya, a sickly boy who is cured by angels and
then embarks on a crusade of peace. Sa’idu Ahmed
Daura’s Tauraruwar hamada (1959; “Star of the Desert”)
centres on Zulkaratu, who is kidnapped and taken to a
ruler; it is a story with folkloric elements. Da’u fataken
dare (“Da’u, the Nocturnal Merchants”), by Tanko
Zango, deals with robbers who live in a forest; the story is
told with much fantasy imagery. In Umaru
Dembo’s Tauraruwa mai wutsiya (1969; “The Comet”),
Kilba, a boy, travels into space.
Hausa drama has been influenced by the oral tradition.
Dramatists include Aminu Kano, Abubakar Tunau, Alhaji
Muhammed Sada, Adamu dan Goggo, and Dauda Kano.
In the 1980s there began to appear littattafan
soyayya (“books of love”), popular romances by such
writers as Bilkisu Ahmed Funtuwa (Allura cikin
ruwa [1994; “Needle in a Haystack”], Wa ya san
gobe? [1996; “Who Knows What Tomorrow Will
Bring?”], and Ki yarda da ni [1997; “Agree with Me”])
and Balaraba Ramat Yakubu (Budurwar zuciya [1987;
“Young at Heart”], Alhaki kuykuyo ne [1990; “Retribution
Is Inescapable”], and Wa zai auri jahila? [1990; “Who
Will Marry the Ignorant Woman?”]). These works deal
with the experiences of Hausa women and address such
subjects as polygamy, women and education, and forced
marriages.
Shona
Feso (1956), a historical novel, was the first literary work
to be published in Shona. An account of the invasion of
the Rozwi kingdom and an expression of longing for the
traditional past, it was written by Solomon M. Mutswairo.
Another early novel, Nzvengamutsvairo (1957; “Dodge
the Broom”), by Bernard T.G. Chidzero, has to do with
themes that dominate prose writing in Shona: the attempt
to remain true to Shona tradition, the breaking down of
Shona culture, the ugly aspects of Western ideas, and the
Christian who attempts to blend past and present. In 1959
Mutswairo’s novel Murambiwa Goredema (“Murambiwa,
the Son of Goredema”; Eng. trans. Murambiwa
Goredema) was published; it depicts the conflict between
the African past and the urbanized, Westernized, and
Christianized contemporary world, with an emphasis on
the need to establish roots within the reality of the world
as it is. Also in 1959 John Marangwanda published a
novel, Kumazivandadzoka (“Who Goes There Never
Comes Back”), which describes the effects of Western-
style education and the consequent alienation from
traditional society: Saraoga, a boy, is attracted to the city,
becomes corrupted, changes his name, and is arrested and
jailed. He again changes his name, having renounced his
mother, who nevertheless continues to seek him.
Education is also a danger in Xavier S.
Marimazhira’s Ndakaziva haitungamiri (1962; “If I Had
Known”): Kufakunesu is a wicked teacher, but in the end
Christianity brings him to a new life. The loss of
traditional values is treated in Kenneth S.
Bepswa’s Ndakamuda dakara afa (1960; “I Loved Her
unto Death”), with its emphasis on love and a desire
to cultivate Christian ideals of love: Rujeko and Taremba
embody Christian love, but evil in the form of the jealous
Shingirai assaults that relationship. The conflict between
Christianity and tradition is also the subject of L.
Washington Chapavadza’s Wechitatu
muzvinaguhwa (1963; “Two Is Company, Three Is
None”), an attack on polygamy: Mazarandanda, married
to two women, becomes angered as his wives compete
with each other. Giles Kuimba’s Gehena harina
moto (1965; “Hell Has No Fire”) depicts a woman who is
wholly evil; the forces of good and evil struggle,
revealing inner conflicts in other characters in the novel.
Emmanuel F. Ribeiro’s Muchadura (1967; “You Shall
Confess”) is a reassessment of traditional Shona views of
the ancestral spirits.
The major Shona writer of novels during the 20th century
was Patrick Chakaipa. His Karikoga gumiremiseve (1958;
“Karikoga and His Ten Arrows”) is a blend of fantasy (it
is based on a tale from the Shona oral tradition) and
history, a love story focusing on conflicts between Shona
and Ndebele peoples. Pfumo reropa (1961; “The Spear of
Blood”) depicts the dangers of the misuse of power in
traditional times: a chief, Ndyire, manipulates the
traditional system to his own selfish advantage. This
novel resembles the Nyanga epic Mwindo: a son of the
chief, Tanganeropa, escapes his father’s murderous wrath
to return later and overcome the tyrant. Christianity
becomes a theme in Chakaipa’s third novel, Rudo
ibofu (1962; “Love Is Blind”), having to do with the
conflict between tradition and Christianity: Rowesai is
beaten by her father when she decides to become a nun.
She is later mauled by a leopard. At a dramatic and
climactic movement, she returns home as a nun, and her
father converts to Christianity. Garandichauya (1963; “I
Shall Return”) and Dzasukwa mwana-asina-hembe (1967;
“Dzasukwa Beer-for-Sale”) focus on contemporary urban
life and its vicissitudes. In the former, Matamba, a boy
from the country, falls into the clutches of a prostitute,
Muchaneta. When he returns to his rural home, having
been rendered moneyless by Muchaneta and blinded by
her male friends, he finds his wife awaiting him. In the
latter, the corrosive effects of colonialism on Shona
tradition are dramatized.
In Nhoroondo dzokuwanana (1958; “The Way to Get
Married”), Paul Chidyausiku attempts to bring into union
traditional Shona beliefs and Christianity: using marriage
as the focal point, it describes a modern African couple,
Tadzimirwa and Chiwoniso, moving into their married
life within the context of the two conflicting forces.
Chidyausiku’s novel Nyadzi dzinokunda rufu (1962;
“Dishonour Greater than Death”; Eng. trans. Nyadzi
dzinokunda rufu) has its hero, Nyika, move from the
traditional world into an urban setting where he is
debased and disgraced. Chidyausiku wrote the first
published Shona play, Ndakambokuyambira (1968; “I
Warned You”), which also deals with the contest resulting
when perceived notions of traditionalism are placed
within an urban context. His novel Karumekangu (1970),
which takes as its setting urban locales
in Zimbabwe and South Africa, is an effort to blend
tradition and urbanism.
The first published poetry in Shona was Soko risina
musoro (1958; “The Tale Without a Head”; Eng.
trans. Soko risina musoro), by Herbert W. Chitepo, a
somewhat allegorical poem about a wandering African
who must make a decision whether to preserve custom or
to move in new directions. Wilson Chivaura wrote poetry
as well, some of which was published
in Madetembedzo (1969). Shona poetry also appeared in
such journals as Poet, Two Tone, and Chirimo.
Somali
Hikmad Soomaali (“Somali Wisdom”), a collection of
traditional stories in the Somali language recorded by
Muuse Xaaji Ismaaciil Galaal, was published in
1956. Shire Jaamac Axmed published materials from the
Somali oral tradition as Gabayo, maahmaah, iyo
sheekooyin yaryar (1965; “Poems, Proverbs, and Short
Stories”). He also edited a literary journal, Iftiinka
aqoonta (“Light of Education”), and published two short
novels in 1973: Halgankiii nolosha (“Life Struggle”),
dealing with the traditional past in negative terms,
and Rooxaan (“The Spirits”). Further stories from the oral
tradition were written down and published in
Cabdulqaadir F. Bootaan’s Murti iyo sheekooyin (1973;
“Traditional Wisdom and Stories”) and Muuse Cumar
Islaam’s Sheekooyin Soomaaliyeed (1973; “Somali
Stories”).
Poetry is a major form of expression in the Somali oral
tradition. Its different types include the gabay, usually
chanted, the jiifto, also chanted and usually moody,
the geeraar, short and dealing with war, the buraambur,
composed by women, the heello, or balwo, made up of
short love poems and popular on the radio, and the hees,
popular poetry. Maxamed Cabdulle Xasan (Mohammed
Abdullah Hassan) created poetry as a weapon, mainly in
the oral tradition. Farah Nuur, Qamaan Bulhan, and
Salaan Arrabey were also well-known poets. Abdillahi
Muuse created didactic poems; Ismaaʿiil Mire and Sheikh
Aqib Abdullah Jama composed religious poetry. Ilmi
Bowndheri wrote love poetry.
Drama has also flourished in the Somali language, and
here, as in the language’s other written forms, the oral
tradition continues to have a dynamic influence. In 1968
Hassan Shekh Mumin wrote
the play Shabeelnaagood (Leopard Among the Women),
which has to do with marriage and the relations between
men and women in contemporary contexts. Verse
influenced by Somali oral tradition plays a major role in
this drama. Ali Sugule, another playwright,
wrote Kalahaab iyo kalahaad (1966; “Wide Apart and
Flown Asunder”), a play concerning traditional and
modern ideas about marriage and relations between the
generations.
A story by Axmed Cartan Xaange “Qawdhan iyo Qoran”
published in 1967 in the journal Horseed examined the
situation of women in traditional society. He wrote the
first play in Somali, Samawada (1968), depicting
women’s role in the independence struggle after World
War II. Somalia’s daily newspaper serialized stories as
well, including works by Axmed Faarax Cali “Idaajaa”
and Yuusuf Axmed “Hero.”
In his novel Aqoondarro waa u nacab
jacayl (1974; Ignorance Is the Enemy of Love)—the first
novel published in Somali—Faarax Maxamed Jaamac
Cawl criticized the traditional past. He made use of
documentary sources having to do with the struggle
against colonialism in the early 20th century, when forces
under the leadership of Maxamed Cabdulle Xasan fought,
among others, the British colonial powers. The two
central characters in the novel, Cali Maxamed Xasan and
Cawrala Barre, were based on historical characters.
The author also brings the oral poetry tradition into the
novel, its characters speaking in poetic language. The
novel launches an assault on ignorance, as the title
suggests, born of, among other things, illiteracy. And it
takes a positive view of Somali women. Customs having
to do with marriage play an important role in the novel,
especially the subverting of such customs for one’s own
ends. Cawrala and Calimaax meet onboard a ship that has
sailed from Aden, and they fall in love. But Cawrala has
been promised by her father to another man. Because of a
rough sea, the ship founders, and Calimaax rescues
Cawrala from the water. Cawrala’s love for Calimaax
intensifies, and her relations with her father are therefore
strained. She sends a letter to Calimaax, who, because he
cannot read, has Sugulle, his new father-in-law, read it to
him, and this leads to difficulties with his wife’s family.
When Cawrala learns of this, she is distressed. Then she
learns that Calimaax died while at war. When Cawrala
laments his death, her mother forces her to leave home.
Then, at night, a voice comes to Cawrala, telling her that
“a hero does not die.” And in fact, Calimaax did not die;
he was wounded, but he survived. Alone and wounded, he
must fight a leopard, and the words of Cawrala’s letter
sustain him. In the meantime, Cawrala is miserable, and
she debates with her parents and members of
her community whether she should marry the man her
father has selected for her. She is forced to marry the
man, Geelbadane. But she becomes so ill that he sends her
back to her family. Calimaax, learning of this, sends a
message to her family, asking that she be allowed to
marry him. Her family agrees, but she dies before the
marriage can take place. Two years after that, still
suffering from his wounds and his love for Cawrala,
Calimaax dies. A later novel by Cawl, Garbaduubkii
gumeysiga (1978; “The Shackles of Colonialism”), has to
do with contemporary history.
Southern Sotho
The first writer in the Southern Sotho language
was Azariele M. Sekese, who gathered Sotho oral
traditions and published them in Mekhoa ea Basotho le
maele le litsomo (1893; “Customs and Stories of the
Sotho”). He also wrote a popular animal story, Bukana ea
tsomo tsa pitso ea linonyana, le tseko ea Sefofu le
Seritsa (1928; “The Book of Stories of the Meeting of the
Birds, and the Lawsuit between Sefofu and Seritsa”).
Historical events, a central focus in much early
Sotho literature, are depicted, for example, in J.J.
Machobane’s Mahaheng a matšo (1946; “In the Dark
Caves”) and Senate, shoeshoe ’a Moshoeshoe (1954;
“Senate, the Pride of Moshoeshoe”), both of which treat
events during the reign of the Sotho chief Moshoeshoe.
M. Damane wrote the historical novel Moorosi, morena
oa Baphuthi (1948; “Moorosi, the King of the Baphuthi”),
the story of Moorosi and his dealings with the British.
S.M. Guma wrote historical novels about King Mohlomi
(1960) and Queen Mmanthathisis (1962). The prolific B.
Makalo Khaketla published a play in 1947, Moshoeshoe
le baruti (“Moshoeshoe and the Missionaries”), and
historical themes can be found in plays by E.A.S. Lesoro
and B. Malefane, both of whom wrote dramas about the
Zulu chief Shaka. Much of Sotho poetry is derived from
the oral tradition; Zakea D. Mangoaela’s
collection Lithoko tsa marena a Basotho (1921; Praise of
the Sotho Kings) is the most outstanding example.
The giant figure in Southern Sotho literature is Thomas
Mokopu Mofolo. His three novels were Moeti oa
bochabela (1907; The Traveller of the
East), Pitseng (1910; “In the Pot”; Eng. trans. Pitseng),
and Chaka (1925; Eng. trans. Chaka: An Historical
Romance). The Traveller of the East is clearly influenced
by Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress (which had been
translated into Southern Sotho in 1872): it is an
allegorical work that views Christianity as light and
Africa as darkness. Pitseng has to do with conflicting
views of marriage, Christian and traditional. Chaka is a
novel about Shaka; it is an effective blending of Sotho
oral tradition and contemporary historical reality and,
from the point of view of storytelling, a yoking of oral
and literary forms. Mofolo depends on the oral tradition—
more specifically, the traditional heroic cycle—for the
formal structure of his work. But, like Chinua
Achebe’s novel Things Fall Apart (1958), Chaka uses a
stark element of realism to break with the romanticism
and the circular ordering of oral tradition. By moving the
novel’s central character, Chaka, out of the purely oral
realm and into a more psychologically realistic mode,
Mofolo is able to present his interpretation of the Zulu
chief. Mofolo’s work is significant not only as a
fictionalized historical biography but as a crucial work
positioned confidently on the boundaries of—and
revealing the clear connection between—the oral and the
written. Mofolo effectively brings the historical Shaka
into the context of a psychological Shaka, and it is the
oral tradition that makes this complex layering process
possible. In Mofolo’s novel the mythic being Isanusi, who
serves as both an actor in the narrative and a commentator
on it, enables Mofolo to generate this layering. The
importance of Chaka, then, is not that it is history; it is
not. It is a comment on history. Mofolo’s technique is
derived from oral historians in Southern Africa, who
interlaced history with commentary. Mofolo’s inclusion
of a character such as Isanusi keeps the novel from
becoming overly didactic and also sustains its status as a
work of art.
Sotho tradition is a central concern of B.M. Khaketla in
his novel Meokho ea thabo (1951; “Tears of Joy”). In it a
young man, Moeketsi, falls in love, but his beloved’s
parents want her to marry someone else. He meets another
young woman, but she is engaged to a man she does not
know, and by now Moeketsi’s parents have chosen a bride
for him. It turns out that he is the man selected for the
young woman, and she is the woman selected as his
bride. Ramasoabi le Potso (1937; “Ramasoabi and
Potso”), by M.L. Maile, and Sek’hona sa joala (“A Mug
of Beer”), by T.M. Mofokeng—both didactic, moralizing
stories—were among the earliest dramatic works in
Southern Sotho.
The conflict between Sotho tradition and the West,
including Christianity, can be found in a number of Sotho
works. Everitt Lechesa Segoete wrote the novel Monono
ke moholi ke mouoane (1910; “Riches Are Like Mist and
Fog”), which in a heavily moralizing way treats the
conflict between Sotho tradition and the world of the
whites: Khitšane falls in with a criminal, Malebaleba,
goes to jail, and then is converted to Christianity by
Malebaleba, who has become an evangelist. Albert
Nqheku’s novel Arola naheng ea Maburu (1942; “Arola
Among the Boers”) deals with the conflicts between
blacks and whites, between the rural and the urban, and
between tradition and modernism. Playwrights such as
Maile and Khaketla wrote of polygamy; others examined
marriage (J.G. Mocoancoeng), love relationships (J.J.
Moiloa, J.D. Koote, P.S. Motsieloa, V.G.L. Leutsoa, and
J.S. Monare), and Christianity and tradition (Mofokeng).

Swahili
Swahili literature is usually divided into classical and
contemporary periods and genres. There were early
historical works, such as Tarekhe ya Pate (“The Pate
Chronicle”); reassembled by the 19th-century scholar
Fumo Omar al-Nabhani, it describes events from the 13th
to the 19th century. Another chronicle, Khabari za
Lamu (“The Lamu Chronicle”), takes the 18th and 19th
centuries as its subject. Both religious and secular poetry,
showing the influence of Muslim Arabic literature and of
the East African culture from which it arose, was a central
vehicle of written literary expression. Al Inkishafi (The
Soul’s Awakening), by Sayyid Abdallah bin Ali bin Nasir,
has closer connections to historical reality, albeit still
within an Islamic context. The didactic Utendi wa Mwana
Kupona (1858; “Poem of Mwana Kupona”) was written
by the first prominent Swahili female poet, Mwana
Kupona binti Msham. Love poetry, like other poetry, was
sung with or without musical accompaniment. The epic of
the legendary figure Fumo Liyongo wa Bauri, who likely
lived during the 12th century, was created by Muhammad
Kijumwa (Utenzi wa Fumo Liyongo [1913; “The Epic of
Fumo Liyongo”). Muyaka bin Haji al-Ghassaniy wrote
much poetry, including works with nationalistic topics.
There were also contemporary epics, including Utenzi wa
vita vya Wadachi kutamalaki mrima, 1307
A.H. (1955; The German Conquest of the Swahili Coast,
1897 A.D.), by Hemedi bin Abdallah bin Said Masudi al-
Buhriy, and Utenzi wa vita vya Maji Maji (1933; “The
Epic of the Maji Maji Rebellion”), by Abdul Karim bin
Jamaliddini. A novel, Habari za Wakilindi (“The Story of
the Wakilindi Lineage”; Eng. trans. The Kilindi),
published in three volumes between 1895 and 1907 by
Abdallah bin Hemedi bin Ali Ajjemy, deals with the
Kilindi, the rulers of the state of Usambara.
It was Shaaban Robert who had the most dynamic and
long-lasting effect on contemporary Swahili literature. He
wrote poetry, prose, and proverbs. Almasi za
Afrika (1960; “African Diamonds”) is one of his famous
books of poetry. Of his prose, his utopian novel trilogy is
among his best-known works: Kusadikika, nchi iliyo
angani (1951; Kusadikika, a Country in the Sky), Adili na
nduguze (1952; “Adili and His Brothers”),
and Kufikirika (written in 1946, published posthumously
in 1967). Adili and His Brothers is told largely by means
of flashbacks. In Kusadikika a fantasy land is created.
This largely didactic novel is heavy with morals, as
suggested by the allegorical names given to the
characters. (In the succeeding works of his trilogy, Robert
moves away from the homiletic somewhat.) By means of
flashbacks and images of the future, Kusadikika tells the
story of Karama, which occurs mainly in a courtroom.
Like many other African authors of his time,
he juxtaposes the oral and the written in this novel; it is
his experimentation with narrative time that is unique.
Robert also wrote essays and Utenzi wa vita vya uhuru,
1939 hata 1945 (1967; “The Epic of the Freedom War,
1939 to 1945”).
Significant poetry collections include Amri
Abedi’s Sheria za kutunga mashairi na diwani ya
Amri (1954; “The Principles of Poetics Together with a
Collection of Poems by Amri”). Ahmad Nassir and
Abdilatif Abdalla also wrote poetry. Abdalla’s Sauti ya
dhiki (1973; “The Voice of Agony”) contains poems
composed between 1969 and 1972, when he was
a political prisoner. Euphrase Kezilahabi wrote poetry (as
in Karibu ndani [1988; “Come In”]) that led the way to
the establishment of free verse in Swahili. Other
experimenters with poetry included Mugyabuso M.
Mulokozi and Kulikoyela K. Kahigi, who together
published Malenga wa bara (1976). Ebrahim N. Hussein
and Penina Muhando produced innovative dramatic forms
through a synthesis of Western drama and traditional
storytelling and verse. A play by
Hussein, Kinjeketile (1969; Eng. trans. Kinjeketile), deals
with the Maji Maji uprising, and Muhando wrote such
plays as Hatia (1972; “Guilt”), Tambueni haki zetu (1973;
“Reveal Our Rights”), Heshima yangu (1974; “My
Honour”), and Pambo (1975; “Decoration”). The Paukwa
Theatre Association of Tanzania produced Ayubu,
published in 1984. Henry Kuria experimented with drama
with such plays as Nakupenda, lakini… (1957; “I Love
You, But…”).
Muhammad Saleh Abdulla Farsy wrote the novel Kurwa
and Doto: maelezo ya makazi katika kijiji cha Unguja
yaani Zanzibar (1960; “Kurwa and Doto: A Novel
Depicting Community Life in a Zanzibari Village”).
Another utopian novel was written by Paul O.
Ugula, Ufunguo wenye hazina (1969; “The Key to the
Treasure”). There were also novels about contemporary
society, including Kuishi kwingi ni kuona mengi (1968;
“Living Long Is to Experience Much”) and Alipanda
upepo kuvuna tufani (1969; “He Who Sows the Wind
Reaps the Storm”), by J.N. Somba. Christianity is a strong
influence in these novels. The Mau Mau uprising is
treated in a novel by P.M. Kareithi, Kaburi bila
msalaba (1969; “Grave Without a Cross”). Muhammad
Said Abdulla wrote the first Swahili detective
novel, Mzimu wa watu wa kale (1960; “Graveyard of the
Ancestors”), and with the appearance of Faraji
Katalambulla’s Simu ya kifo (1965; “Phone Call of
Death”), the genre hit its stride. G.C. Mkangi’s
novel Ukiwa (1975; “Loneliness”) and Ndyanao
Balisidya’s novel Shida (1975; “Hardship”) focus on
contemporary social conflicts.
Popular newspaper fiction was a major source of literary
storytelling during the 20th century. It appeared in such
newspapers as Baraza and Taifa Weekly and included
writing by A.T. Banzi (“Lazima nimwoe nitulize moyo”
[1970; “I Have to Marry Her to Calm My Heart”]) and
Bob N. Okoth (“Rashidi akasikia busu kali lamvuta
ulimi” [1969; “Rashidi Felt a Wild Kiss Pulling His
Tongue”]). In the 1980s this genre flourished with works
by such authors as the prolific Ben R. Mtobwa and
Rashidi Ali Akwilombe.
In addition to pushing the boundaries of verse, Kezilahabi
also experimented with the novel form; Nagona (1990) is
an example. He had a major influence on the
contemporary novel. In his Rosa Mistika (1971) the
effects of alien cultures on indigenous cultures are
measured. In Kichwamaji (1974; “Waterhead”) he treats
the conflict between the generations, and in Dunia
uwanja wa fujo (1975; “The World Is a Field of Chaos”)
he emphasizes the effects of foreign cultures on
indigenous cultures. His critical stand on Tanzania’s
socialism is reflected in Gamba la nyoka (1979; “The
Snake’s Skin”). In Kwaheri Iselamagazi (1992;
“Goodbye, Iselamagazi”), Bernard Mapalala explores
critically the rule of the Nyamwezi
warlord Mirambo during the 19th century. The topic
of AIDS emerged in the 1980s in novels such as Kifo cha
AIDS (1988; “An AIDS Death”), by Clemence Merinyo.
Xhosa
The first piece of Xhosa writing was a hymn written in
the early 19th century by Ntsikana. The Bible was
translated between the 1820s and 1859. Lovedale Press
was established in the 19th century by the London
Missionary Society. In 1837 the Wesleyans published a
journal, Umshumayeli Indaba (“The Preacher’s News”),
which ran to 1841. Lovedale, the Scots mission, was the
centre of early Xhosa writing. Ikhwezi was produced
during the years 1844 and 1845. The Wesleyan
missionaries started a magazine in 1850, Isitunywa
Senyanga (“The Monthly Messenger”); its publication
was interrupted by one of the frontier wars. A monthly in
both Xhosa and English, Indaba (“The News”), edited by
William Govan, ran from 1862 until 1865; it was
succeeded by The Kaffir Express in 1876, to be replaced
by Isigidimi samaXhosa (“The Xhosa Messenger”), in
Xhosa only. John Tengo Jabavu and William Gqoba were
its editors. It ceased publication with Gqoba’s death in
1888. Imvo Zabantsundu (“Opinions of the Africans”)
was a newspaper edited by Jabavu, who was assisted
by John Knox Bokwe. Izwi Labantu (“The Voice of the
People”) began publication in 1897 with Nathaniel Cyril
Mhala as its editor; it was financially assisted by Cecil
Rhodes, who had resigned as prime minister of Cape
Colony in 1896. Much early Xhosa prose and poetry
appeared in these periodicals.
African protest, which was not allowed in works
published by the mission presses, was heard in the
journals. In fact, Imvo Zabantsundu was suppressed by
military authorities during the South African War. Gqoba
and William Wawuchope Citashe published politically
potent poetry in the newspapers. Jonas Ntsiko
(pseudonym uHadi Waseluhlangeni [“Harp of the
Nation”]) in 1877 urged Isigidimi samaXhosa to speak out
on political issues. Poets such as Henry Masila Ndawo
and S.E.K. Mqhayi assailed white South Africans for
creating an increasingly repressive atmosphere for
blacks. James J.R. Jolobe attempted in his poetry to
blend nostalgia for the Xhosa past with an acceptance of
the Christian present. (Indeed, many early writers of prose
and verse had Christian backgrounds that were the result
of their having attended missionary schools, and so shared
Jolobe’s thematic concerns.) Mqhayi was called "the
father of Xhosa poetry" by the Zulu poet and
novelist Benedict Wallet Vilakazi, but Jolobe was the
innovator who experimented aggressively with form.
Some of the first prose writers, such as Gqoba and W.B.
Rubusana, were concerned with putting into print
materials from the Xhosa oral traditions. Tiyo Soga and
his son, John Henderson Soga, translated
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress into Xhosa as uHambo
lomhambi (1866 and 1926). Henry Masila Ndawo’s first
novel, uHambo lukaGqoboka (1909; “The Journey of a
Convert”), was heavily influenced by the first half of that
translation. The Xhosa oral tradition also had an effect on
Ndawo’s work, including the novel uNolishwa (1931),
about a woman whose name means "Misfortune."
Brought up in an urban environment, she is the cause of
difficulties among her people and between the races.
In uNomathamsanqa noSigebenga (1937;
“Nomathamsanqa and Sigebenga”)—the name
Nomathamsanqa meaning "Good Fortune" and the name
Sigebenga meaning "Criminal" or "Ogre"—the son of a
traditional chief provides sustenance for his people.
Enoch S. Guma, in his novel uNomalizo; okanye, izinto
zalomhlaba ngamajingiqiwu (1918; Nomalizo; or, The
Things of This Life Are Sheer Vanity), wrote a somewhat
allegorical study of two boys, borrowing the structure of
the story from the Xhosa oral tradition.
Guybon Sinxo’s novels describe city life in a way similar
to those of Alex La Guma, a South African writer, and
those of the Nigerian author Cyprian Ekwensi. In
Sinxo’s uNomsa (1922), the main character, Nomsa,
becomes aware of the dangers of urban living, learning
"that the very people who most pride themselves on their
civilization" act against those ideals. In the end, Nomsa
marries the village drunk and reforms him; she then
returns with him to the country, where she creates a
loving home, albeit a Christian one. In Sinxo’s second
novel, Umfundisi waseMthuqwasi (1927; “The Priest of
Mthuqwasi”), Thamsanqa, a businessman, has a dream
that inspires him to become a Christian minister, but in so
doing he severs his connections with his traditional past
and soon after dies, exhausted. His brother-in-law,
however, combines Christianity and Xhosa tradition in his
life, and he survives. Sinxo’s third novel, published in
1939, was Umzali wolahleko (“The Prodigal Parent”), the
story of a boy, Ndopho, and his brother, Ndimeni.
Ndopho is spoiled; Ndimeni does all the work in the
household. Ndimeni’s labours bring him success, while
Ndopho’s self-involvement leads him steadily down.
Sinxo moralizes, "No Xhosa will flourish if he continues
to drink!"
The greatest achievement in Xhosa writing, and one of
Africa’s finest novels, is Ingqumbo
yeminyanya (1940; The Wrath of the Ancestors), written
by A.C. Jordan. In this novel Jordan explores the central
issue that concerned most of the writers who came before
him—the relationship between African tradition and the
intrusion of the West into African societies—and in the
process he moves the novel form into greater complexity
and nuance. In an unsparingly realistic way, Zwelinzima,
the novel’s central character, is confronted with the
demands of Mpondomise tradition and Western
Christianity, of past and present. What dooms Zwelinzima
is that he is unable to bring these warring sides into
harmony. Like Okonkwo in Achebe’s Things Fall
Apart and Chaka in Mofolo’s Chaka, Zwelinzima is given
the opportunity to assume a heroic role, but, because of an
essential flaw, he is brought down in a starkly realistic
manner by an internal psychological struggle. That
struggle is the conflict within his society writ small.
Other novelists after Jordan continued in various ways
and with varied degrees of success to deal with these
same issues, including P.M. Lutshete in Unyana
wolahleko (1965; “The Prodigal Son”) and Peter M.
Mtuze in uDingezweni (1966). In E.B.
Ndovela’s Sikondini (1966), the character Zwilakhe cuts
himself off from Xhosa customs and lives an unhappy
life, while Jongikhaya, who has steadily followed Xhosa
customs, is happily married and has become a successful
businessman. Westernized Africans and uncompromising
Xhosa traditionalists are at cross-purposes in Z.S.
Qangule’s Izagweba (1972; “Weapons”). In K.S.
Bongela’s Alitshoni lingenandaba (1971; “The Sun Does
Not Set Without News”), the reader is led to a revelation
of the corruption that results when traditional ties are
broken. Christianity and urban corruption are at the centre
of Witness K. Tamsanqa’s Inzala kaMlungisi (1954; “The
Progeny of Mlungisi”). Tradition and modernism are a
theme in D.Z. Dyafta’s Ikamva lethu (1953; “Our
Ancestry”) and E.S.M. Dlova’s Umvuzo wesono (1954;
“The Wages of Sin”). Other authors—such as Aaron
Mazambana Mmango, Marcus A.P. Ngani, Bertrand
Bomela, Godfrey Mzamane, D.M. Lupuwana, and
Minazana Dana—confronted very similar issues. These
writers tried to come to terms with the world that so
enthralled 19th-century Xhosa intellectuals but that lost
its appeal as the marginalized role of the African in it
became more and more evident.

Yoruba
In a story from the Yoruba oral tradition, a boy moves
farther and farther away from home. With the assistance
of a fantasy character, a fox, the boy is able to meet the
challenges set by ominous oba (kings) in three kingdoms,
each a greater distance from the boy’s home. The fox
becomes the storyteller’s means of revealing the
developing wisdom of the boy, who steadily loses his
innocence and moves to manhood. This oral tale is the
framework for the best-known work in Yoruba and the
most significant contribution of the Yoruba language to
fiction: D.O. Fagunwa’s Ogboju ode ninu igbo
irunmale (1938; The Forest of a Thousand Daemons),
which contains fantasy and realistic images along with
religious didacticism and Bunyanesque allegory, all
placed within a frame story that echoes that of The
Thousand and One Nights. The novel very effectively
combines the literary and oral forces at work among
Yoruba artists of the time. Its central character is Akara-
ogun. He moves into a forest three times, each time
confronting fantasy characters and each time involved in a
difficult task. In the end, he and his followers go to a wise
man who reveals to them the accumulated wisdom of
their adventures. The work was successful and was
followed by others, all written in a similar way: Igbo
olodumare (1949; “The Jungle of the Almighty”), Ireke-
Onibudo (1949), and Irinkerindo ninu Igbo
Elegbeje (1954; “Irinkerindo the Hunter in the Town of
Igbo Elegbeje”; Eng. trans. Expedition to the Mount of
Thought), all rich combinations of Yoruba and Western
images and influences. Fagunwa’s final novel, Adiitu
olodumare (1961; “God’s Mystery-Knot”), placed a more
contemporary story into the familiar fantasy framework:
so as to help his poverty-stricken parents, the central
character, Adiitu, journeys into a forest, struggles with
creatures of the forest, and finds his parents dead when he
returns home. He moves into heaven in a dream, where he
encounters his parents. He falls in love with Iyunade, and
they are marooned on an island, where he saves her.
When they get to their home, a friend of Adiitu attempts
to destroy the relationship, but in the end they are
married. Realism is faced with fantasy in the structure of
the story, in the characters, and in the events. This
combination of a folktale with a realistic frame revealed
new possibilities to Yoruba writers.
There are two competing strands in Yoruba literature, one
influenced by the rich Yoruba oral tradition, the other
receiving its impetus from the West. The history of
Yoruba literature moves between these forces. The
earliest literary works were translations of
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, published as Ilosiwaju ero-
mimo in 1866, and of the Bible, published as Bibeli
mimo in 1900. There was an early series of Yoruba school
readers, Iwe kika Yoruba (1909–15), containing prose
and poetry. The first written poetry, by such poets as J.
Sobowale Sowande and A. Kolawole Ajisafe, dealt with
personal and historical experiences. These poems
combined traditional poetic structures and contemporary
events as well as religious influences. At about the same
time, Denrele Adetimkan Obasa published, in 1927, a
volume of materials from the Yoruba oral tradition (other
volumes followed in 1934 and 1945).
A realistic treatment of the Yoruba past was attempted by
Adekanmi Oyedele, whose novel Aiye re! (1947; “What
People Do!”) deals with traditional Yoruba life. Isaac
Oluwole Delano’s Aiye d’aiye oyinbo (1955; “Changing
Times: The White Man Among Us”) is another novel in
this realistic vein; it deals with the coming of the
Europeans. His second novel, Lojo ojo un (1963; “In
Olden Times”), is also a historical novel. Joseph Folahan
Odunjo also wrote two novels, Omo oku orun (1964; “The
Deceased Woman’s Daughter”) and Kuye (1964), the
latter about a Cinderella-type boy who moves from
misery to happiness.
Other works, perhaps influenced by Fagunwa, melded
fantasy and realism: Olorun esan (1952; “God’s
Vengeance”), by Gabriel Ibitoye Ojo, and Ogun
Kiriji (1961; “The Kiriji War”), by Olaiya Fagbamigbe,
also have oral roots. J. Ogunsina Ogundele wrote novels,
including Ibu-Olokun (1956; “The Deeps of Olokun”)
and Ejigbede lona isalu-orun (1956; “Ejigbede Going to
Heaven”), that move characters into realms of fantasy.
D.J. Fatanmi wrote K’orimale ninu igbo Adimula (1967;
“Korimale in the Forest of Adimula”), which also shows
the influence of Fagunwa. Femi Jeboda
wrote Olowolaiyemo (1964), a realistic novel having to do
with life in a Yoruba city. Adebayo Faleti’s works, such
as the short novel Ogun awitele (1965; “A War
Foreseen”) and the narrative poem Eda ko l’aropin (1956;
“Don’t Underrate”), display fantasy roots. Faleti also
published a historical novel, Omo olokun-esin (1970;
“Son of the Horse’s Master”). Afolabi Olabimtan wrote a
realistic novel, Kekere ekun (1967; “Leopard Boy”), a
heavily Christian work. Akinwunmi Isola wrote O le
ku (1974; “Fearful Incidents”), a realistic novel.
Drama was also being developed in the middle of the 20th
century. Olanipekun Esan’s plays based on Greek
tragedies were produced in 1965 and 1966. Other
significant playwrights include Faleti, Olabimtan, Hubert
Ogunde, and Duro Ladipo.
Zulu
Like most other African literatures, Zulu literature of the
19th and early 20th centuries falls into two distinct
categories, one concerned with traditional (Zulu) life and
customs, the other with Christianity. These two broad
areas of early literary activity combined in the 1930s in an
imaginative literature that focused on a conflict that
profoundly preoccupied southern African writers for
decades—the conflict between the urban, Christian,
Westernized milieu and the traditional, largely rural
African past.
There were early translations of the Christian scriptures in
the mid-19th century. Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress was
also translated and published in two parts (1868 and
1895). Magema kaMagwaza Fuze’s Abantu abamnyama
lapha bavela ngakhona (“Where the Black People Came
From”) was published in 1922. Written works on Zulu
customs also appeared, including Petros Lamula’s Isabelo
sikaZulu (1936; “Zulu Heritage”) and T.Z.
Masondo’s Amasiko esiZulu (1940; “Zulu Customs”).
R.H. Thembu’s story uMamazane (1947) includes
references to Zulu tradition. Cyril Lincoln Sibusiso
Nyembezi and Otty Ezrom Howard Mandlakayise
Nxumalo compiled Zulu customs, as did Leonhard L.J.
Mncwango, Moses John Ngcobo, and M.A. Xaba. Violet
Dube’s Woza nazo (1935; “Come with Stories”), Alan
Hamilton S. Mbata and Garland Clement S.
Mdhladhla’s uChakijana bogcololo umphephethi
wezinduku zabafo (1927; “Chakijana the Clever One, the
Medicator of the Men’s Fighting Sticks”), and F.L.A.
Ntuli’s Izinganekwane nezindaba ezindala (1939; “Oral
Narratives and Ancient Traditions”) are compilations of
oral stories. Nyembezi gathered and annotated Zulu and
Swati heroic poems in Izibongo zamakhosi (1958;
“Heroic Poems of the Chiefs”), and E.I.S.
Mdhladhla’s uMgcogcoma (1947; “Here and There”)
contains Zulu narratives.
These early Zulu writers were amassing the raw materials
with which the modern Zulu novel would be built.
Christian influence from abroad would combine with the
techniques of traditional Zulu oral traditions to create this
new form. There would also be one additional ingredient:
the events that constituted Zulu history. Two outstanding
early writers dealt with historical figures and events.
One, John Langalibalele Dube, became the first Zulu to
write a novel in his native language with Insila
kaShaka (1933; “Shaka’s Servant”; Eng. trans. Jeqe, the
Bodyservant of King Shaka). The second, R.R.R. Dhlomo,
published a popular series of five novels on Zulu
kings: uDingane (1936), uShaka (1937), uMpande (1938), 
uCetshwayo (1952), and uDinuzulu (1968). Other
historical novels include Lamula’s uZulu
kaMalandela (1924). S.B.L. Mbatha’s Nawe Mbopha
kaSithayi (1971; “You Too, Mbopha, Son of Sithayi”) is
built on the drama of Shaka’s assassination, as is Elliot
Zondi’s drama Ukufa kukaShaka (1966; “The Death of
Shaka”); and Benedict Wallet Vilakazi’s uDingiswayo
kaJobe (1939; “Dingiswayo, Son of Jobe”) is a study of
Shaka’s mentor, the Mtetwa leader Dingiswayo. Among
other written works based on Zulu history are Muntu
’s uSimpofu (1969); L.S. Luthango’s uMohlomi (1938),
a biography of Mohlomi, the adviser of the Sotho chief
Moshoeshoe; and Imithi ephundliwe (1968; “Barked
Trees”), an imaginative work by Moses Hlela and
Christopher Nkosi based on the Zulu War. The historical
trickster Chakijana, who became famous during the
Bambatha Rebellion, is depicted in A.Z.
Zungu’s uSukabekhuluma (1933), and Bethuel Blose
Ndelu composed a drama, Mageba lazihlonza (1962; “I
Swear by Mageba, the Dream Has Materialized”), set
during the reign of the Zulu king Cetshwayo.
At the heart of Zulu literature of the 20th century is oral
tradition. The magical aura of the oral is present but
disguised in the written tradition of the Zulu people. The
movement from the oral to the written was achieved
without difficulty: in the beginning, some Zulu authors
utilized written forms as venues for sermonizing; others
simply reproduced the oral in writing. But more
adventurous and creative writers quickly saw the
connections between the two and fashioned written works
using the looms of the oral. Zulu literature owes
something to influences from the West, but
the indigenous oral tradition is dominant. Stories of the
contemporary world are constructed over the old oral
stories; the space of the eternal, an aspect of the ancient
tradition, gives way to the space of the immediate, and the
values expressed in the oral stories continue to influence
the written ones.
In a number of novels, Zulu writers contend with the
conflict between tradition and Christianity. In James N.
Gumbi’s Baba ngixolele (1966; “Father, Forgive Me”), a
girl, Fikile, struggles with what she perceives as a gap
between those two worlds. S.V.H. Mdluli explores the
same theme in uBhekizwe namadodana akhe (1966;
“Bhekizwe and His Young Sons”): a good son retains his
ties with his parents (i.e., tradition) and becomes a
successful teacher. A bad son goes wrong and is on the
edge of destruction until he recovers his roots. J.M.
Zama’s novel Nigabe ngani? (1948; “On What Do You
Pride Yourself?”) is similarly constructed around positive
and negative characters. A stepmother, Mamathunjwa,
spoils her own children, Simangaliso and Nomacala, but
despises her two stepchildren, Msweli and Hluphekile.
Christianity is not the villain; instead it is the relaxation of
Zulu values that is the problem. Msweli and Hluphekile
succeed, while the pampered children die in shame. This
insistence on retaining a connection with the African past
produced a literature interwoven with Negritude, or
black consciousness, a theme that would become a
dominant one in South African politics in the 1960s and
’70s.
Dhlomo’s novel Indlela yababi (1946; “The Bad Path”)
investigates the polarity between urbanized life and
traditional practices and concludes that the former is
unstable. A similar theme is developed in a novel
by Jordan Kush Ngubane, Uvalo lwezinhlonzi (1956;
“Fear of Authority”). Gumbi’s novel Wayesezofika
ekhaya (1966; “He Was About to Go Home”) shows a
country boy turning to crime as a result of urbanization.
There is much of the Zulu oral tradition and of Pilgrim’s
Progress in such novels, both in content and in form. The
influence of Jordan’s The Wrath of the Ancestors can be
seen in Kenneth Bhengu’s Umbuso weZembe nenkinga
kaBhekifa (1959; “The Government of Zembe and
Bhekifa’s Problem”): a chief and his wife, both educated
in schools influenced by the West, come into conflict with
Zulu tradition. A city trickster cons country people out of
their savings in Nyembezi’s Inkinsela
yaseMgungundlovu (1961; “The Man from
Mgungundlovu”). That theme persists in Nyembezi’s
most successful novel, Mntanami! Mntanami! (1950; “My
Child! My Child!”; Eng. trans. Mntanami! Mntanami!):
the character Jabulani loves the city, but, unprepared to
deal with it, he becomes a criminal. In
Nxumalo’s Ngisinga empumalanga (1969; “I Look to the
East”), a man loses his children when Zulu tradition is
compromised. In Ikusasa alaziwa (1961; “Tomorrow Is
Not Known”), Nxumalo shows that the
urban environment need not be fatal and that Christianity
and Zulu values can together act as guides.
Zulu poetry varies widely, from imitating ancient Zulu
poetic forms to analyzing the system of apartheid that
dominated life in South Africa during the 20th century.
Some of the finest Zulu poetry can be found in two
collections by Nxumalo, Ikhwezi (1965; “The Morning
Star”) and Umzwangedwa (1968; Self-Consciousness).
In Hayani maZulu (1969; “Sing, Zulu People”), P. Myeni
sought to adapt ancient forms to modern literary Zulu.
Other Zulu poets who wrote during the second half of the
20th century include Deuteronomy Bhekinkosi Z. Ntuli
(Amangwevu [1969; “Uppercuts”]), J.C. Dlamini
(Inzululwane [1957; “Giddiness”; Eng.
trans. Inzululwane]), N.J. Makhaye (Isoka
lakwaZulu [1972; “The Young Man of kwaZulu”]), M.T.
Mazibuko (Ithongwane [1969; “Snuffbox”]), and Elliot
Alphas Nsizwane kaTimothy Mkize (Kuyokoma
Amathe [1970; “Until the Mouth Dries Up”]).

Literatures In European And

European-Derived Languages
Afrikaans
Afrikaans literature in South Africa can be viewed in
the context of Dutch literary tradition or South African
literary tradition. Within an African context, Afrikaans
literature will be forever on the outside. As is the case
with the language, it is caught in an identity crisis that
was created irrevocably by the fiercely defended political
and cultural identity of the Dutch settlers who arrived in
South Africa in 1652 and whose descendants, together
with English-speaking whites, took over the government
in 1948, after which the notorious system
of apartheid was enshrined in laws that would be
demolished only in the early 1990s.
The conservative branch of the Afrikaner people, always
the most numerous and the most powerful, was in conflict
throughout the 20th century with a talented and growing
group of young poets and novelists, such as C. Louis
Leipoldt and Breyten Breytenbach, who sought to
broaden the confines of an increasingly limited people
and literature. The history of Afrikaans literature is the
history of the Afrikaners, an alien people whose literature
is a testimony to that state of alienation.
Afrikaans, with its roots in Dutch, has been spoken in
South Africa mainly by whites since the 18th century.
The First Afrikaans Language Movement began in 1875,
led by Stephanus Jacobus du Toit and others; it
represented an effort to make Afrikaans a language
separate from Dutch. The first newspaper in
Afrikaans, Die Patriot (“The Patriot”), began publication
in 1876. The linguistic shift from Dutch to Afrikaans did
not occur without considerable dispute among the whites
of Dutch descent. It was after the South African
War (1899–1902)—which became a prominent subject of
early Afrikaans literature—that Afrikaans became a
significant written language. “Winternag” (1905;
“Winter’s Night”), a poem by Eugène Marais, and “Die
vlakte” (1906; “The Plain”), a poem by Jan Celliers,
dramatically ushered in this new literary language, along
with language organizations such as the Suid-Afrikaanse
Akademie (founded 1909). Die brandwag (“The
Outpost”), a magazine, had a literary section from 1910.
The Hertzog Prize for poetry, prose, and drama in
Afrikaans was established in 1914. Publishing houses
specializing in Afrikaans publications began in 1914 and
1915. In 1914 Cornelius Jakob Langenhoven fostered
Afrikaans in schools, and the language was soon after
studied at universities and used as a medium of
instruction. Parliament recognized Afrikaans as an official
language in 1925, six years after it was named the
language of the Dutch Reformed Church. Earlier 19th-
century writing had been heavily didactic; by the 1920s
this had begun to change.
Poets became the most potent harbingers of the new
language as the Second Afrikaans Language
Movement began; they included Leipoldt, Marais,
Celliers, Jakob Daniel du Toit (Totius), Daniel François
Malherbe, and Toon van den Heever. Leipoldt, who
would one day be condemned as a traitor to Afrikaners,
was probably one of the greatest and most original poets
of the early 20th century, while Marais in his poetry
linked European tradition to the realities of life in South
Africa. Prose also appeared during this period, moving
away from such melodramatic works as Johannes van
Wyk (1906), a novel by J.H.H. de Waal, to more
rigorously realistic historical works, such as those by
Gustav Preller. Realism began to dominate Afrikaans
prose, especially in the work of Jochem van Bruggen,
who wrote a trilogy, the first part of which was Ampie,
die natuurkind (1931; “Ampie, the Child of Nature”), a
study of a poor white in South Africa. A.A. Pienaar
(pseudonym Sangiro) wrote popular books about animals.
Drama also began to flourish through the writings of
Leipoldt, Langenhoven, and H.A. Fagan. Langenhoven
was also a popular poet, as was A.G. Visser.
Dramatic events in the 1930s—including a drought that
caused many farmers to move to the cities, significant
political changes, a sharpening of racial conflict, and the
deepening of the Afrikaans-English conflict—isolated
Afrikaners more dramatically in South Africa, and
fiercely partisan organizations such as the Afrikaner-
Broederbond and Federasie van Afrikaanse
Kultuurvereniginge gained new adherents. The Afrikaner
poets known as the Dertigers (“Thirtyers,” or writers of
the 1930s) infuriated conservative Afrikaners with a new
type of poetry. The poetry of W.E.G. Louw, N.P. van
Wyk Louw, and Elisabeth Eybers was at the heart of this
fertile activity, which centred on experimentation with
form. Van Wyk Louw’s Raka (1941) is a rhymed study of
evil, with Raka as the incarnation of this evil taking over
a community. Uys Krige wrote romantic poetry but is
known for his war poetry and as a dramatist. There was
prose written during this period by Abraham H. Jonker,
C.M. van den Heever, and Johannes van Melle,
whose Bart Nel (1936), dealing with the Afrikaner
rebellion of 1914–15, is considered by some to be the
finest novel in Afrikaans.
After World War II, literary magazines carried Afrikaans
works. D.J. Opperman continued the experimentation
with the Afrikaans language in his poetry, and he
introduced decisively South African racial themes into his
work. In 1954 Arthur Fula became one of the first black
Africans to write a novel in Afrikaans. Audrey Blignault
and Elise Muller wrote short stories and essays. Anna M.
Louw wrote novels.
The Sestigers (“Sixtyers,” or writers of the 1960s)
attempted to do for prose what the Dertigers had done for
poetry. Jan Rabie, Etienne Leroux, Dolf van
Niekerk, André P. Brink, Abraham de Vries, and Chris
Barnard experimented with the novel and moved into
areas largely forbidden until that time, such as sex and
atheism. Brink’s Lobola vir die lewe (1962; “Pledge for
Life”) and Orgie (1965; “Orgy”) caused
sensations. Bartho Smit wrote Moeder Hanna (1959;
“Mother Hanna”), an acclaimed drama about the South
African War. He also wrote Putsonderwater (1962;
“Well-Without-Water”), considered among the finest
plays produced in Afrikaans; it could not be performed
because of its political message. Elsa Joubert wrote a
novel about a black woman, Die swerfjare van Poppie
Nongena (1978; The Long Journey of Poppie Nongena,
or Poppie). Karel Schoeman’s ’n Ander land (1984;
“Another Country”) moved into the sensitive political and
social realities of South Africa. Adam Small wrote works,
such as Kanna hy kô hystoe (1965; Kanna—He Is Coming
Home), that revealed the realities of the lives of nonwhites
in South Africa. Ingrid Jonker wrote intensely personal
poetry. Breytenbach wrote surreal poetry, his work
revealing his struggle with the Afrikaners’ political
situation in South Africa.
His Katastrofes (1964; Catastrophes) is a series of
sketches that take racism, death, and madness as their
subjects.
These themes persisted through the end of the 20th
century. Riana Scheepers, in Die ding in die vuur (1990;
“The Thing in the Fire”), a collection of short stories,
blended Zulu oral tradition with the world
of apartheid. Marlene van Niekerk wrote Triomf (1994;
“Triumph”; Eng. trans. Triomf), a novel based on
Sophiatown, a black settlement near Johannesburg that
was replaced by the South African government in the
1950s and ’60s by a white working-class suburb dubbed
Triomf. In Lettie Viljoen’s Klaaglied vir Koos (1984;
“Lament for Koos”), a husband leaves his family to join
the fight against apartheid. In his
novels Toorberg (1986; Ancestral Voices)
and Kikoejoe (1996; Kikuyu), Etienne van Heerden dealt
with 20th-century South African history. (See
also treatment of literature in Afrikaans in South African
literature.)

English
Early works in English in western Africa include a
Liberian novel, Love in Ebony: A West African Romance,
published in 1932 by Charles Cooper (pseudonym
Varfelli Karlee), as well as such works of Ghanaian
pulp literature as J. Benibengor Blay’s Emelia’s Promise
and Fulfilment (1944). R.E. Obeng, a Ghanaian,
wrote Eighteenpence (1941), an early work on the conflict
between African and European cultures. Other early
popular writers in Ghana include Asare Konadu, Efua
Sutherland, and Kwesi Brew. The Nigerian Amos
Tutuola wrote The Palm-Wine Drinkard and His Dead
Palm-Wine Tapster in the Deads’ Town (1952), its
construction revealing a clear linkage between the oral
and literary traditions. In it the hero moves to Deads’
Town to bring his tapster back to the land of the living;
the elixir that the hero brings back from the land of the
dead, however, is an egg that is death-dealing as surely as
it is life-giving. Tutuola is faithful to oral tradition, but he
places the traditional journeying tale into a very
contemporary framework.
Nigeria has been a font of creative writing in English,
from the works of Chinua Achebe to those of Ben
Okri. Wole Soyinka, winner of the Nobel Prize for
Literature in 1986, is known for his drama, poetry, and
prose. His The Interpreters (1965) weaves stories from
the contemporary world to the mythic and historical past,
manipulating time so that in the end the very structure of
the story is a comment on the lives of the several
protagonists. Soyinka was a contributor to and coeditor of
the influential journal Black Orpheus, founded in 1957
and containing the early works of poets such
as Christopher Okigbo of Nigeria, Dennis
Brutus and Alex La Guma of South Africa, and Tchicaya
U Tam’si of Congo (Brazzaville). Another literary
journal, The Horn, launched in 1958 by John Pepper
Clark, provided additional opportunities for writers to
have their works published. Transition, a literary journal
begun in Uganda in 1960 by Rajat Neogi, was also a
valuable outlet for many African writers.
Achebe’s Things Fall Apart (1958) is perhaps the best-
known African novel of the 20th century. Its main
character is Okonkwo, whose tragic and fatal flaw, his
overweening ambition, wounds him. His frenzied desire
to be anything but what his father was causes him to
develop a warped view of his society, so that in the end
that view becomes (thanks to seven humiliating years in
exile) reality to him. When he returns, he cannot accept
seeing his people in the throes of adapting to the intruding
whites, and things fall apart for him: it is not the society
he envisioned, and he takes his life. Things Fall Apart is a
precolonial novel that ends with the coming of
colonialism, which triggers Okonkwo’s demise. Okonkwo
is in any case doomed because of his skewed vision. Flora
Nwapa wrote the novel Efuru (1966), the story of a
talented, brilliant, and beautiful woman who, living in a
small community, is confined by tradition. A woman’s
fundamental role, childbearing, is prescribed for her, and
if she does not fulfill that role she suffers the
negative criticism of members of her society. Borrowing a
technique from the oral tradition, Nwapa injects the
dimension of fantasy through the character of the goddess
Uhamiri, who is a mythic counterpart to the real-life
Efuru. In The Slave Girl (1977) the novelist Buchi
Emecheta tells the story of Ojebeta, who, as she journeys
from childhood to adulthood, moves not to freedom and
independence but from one form of slavery to
another. Okri blends fantasy and reality in his novel The
Famished Road (1991; part of a trilogy that also
includes Songs of Enchantment [1993] and Infinite
Riches [1998]). In the novel, which addresses the reality
of postcolonial Nigeria, Okri uses myth,
the Yoruba abiku (“spirit child”), and other fantasy
images to shift between preindependence and
postindependence settings. The spiritual and real worlds
are linked in the novel, the one a dimension of the other,
in a narrative mode that African storytellers have been
using for centuries.
In other parts of western Africa, Lenrie Peters of The
Gambia and Syl Cheyney-Coker of Sierra Leone were
among the most important 20th-century writers. The
novelist Ebou Dibba and the poet Tijan M. Sallah were
also from The Gambia. Cameroonian authors writing in
English during the second half of the 20th century include
Ba’bila Mutia, John S. Dinga, and Jedida Asheri. Writers
in Ghana during the same period include Amma Darko,
B. Kojo Laing, Kofi Awoonor, and Ayi Kwei Armah.
In Fragments (1970) Armah tells of a youth, Baako, who
returns from the United States to his Ghanaian family and
is torn between the new demands of his home and the
consequent subversion of a traditional past represented by
the mythic Naana, his blind grandmother, who establishes
a context for the tragic story Baako is experiencing.
The dominant writer to emerge from East Africa is the
Kenyan Ngugi wa Thiong’o. In A Grain of Wheat (1967)
he tells the story of Mugo, alone and alienated, farming
after having played a role in the Mau Mau rebellion;
though he has considered himself the Moses of his people,
he has a terrible secret. As Mugo’s story unfolds, the
novelist works into his narrative other stories, including
those of Gikonyo, Mumbi, and Karanja, each of whom
has an unsavoury past as well. Ngugi constructs the story
around the proverb “Kikulacho ki nguoni mwako” (“That
which bites you is in your own clothing”). Later in his
career Ngugi, who spent many years in exile from Kenya,
engaged many writers in a debate as to whether African
writers should compose their works in European or
African languages.
Other East African novelists include Okello Oculi, Grace
Ogot, Peter K. Palangyo, and W.E. Mkufya. In Timothy
Wangusa’s novel Upon This Mountain (1989), the
character Mwambu climbs a mountain and comes of age.
In two novels from Uganda a boy moves to
manhood: Abyssinian Chronicles (2000), by Moses
Isegawa, and The Season of Thomas Tebo (1986), by John
Nagenda, the latter an allegorical novel in which a boy’s
loss of innocence is tied to politics in that country. One of
Africa’s greatest novelists is the Somali writer Nuruddin
Farah, who wrote a trilogy composed of the
novels Maps (1986), Gifts (1992),
and Secrets (1998). Maps is the story of a youth, Askar,
growing up in a Somalia divided by Ethiopia. With the
mythic Misra, who becomes his surrogate mother, and by
means of a geographical movement that occurs within a
rich mixture of politics and sex, the boy seeks his identity,
a quest that becomes linked to the identity of the land
across which he moves.
From Malawi came such writers as Jack Mapanje, whose
collection of poems Skipping Without Ropes (1998)
reflects on his four years as a political prisoner, and David
Rubadiri. Other writers from Southern Africa include
Fwanyanga M. Mulikita and Dominic Mulaisho from
Zambia and Berhane Mariam Sahle Sellassie, Daniachew
Worku, and Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin from
Ethiopia. Solomon M. Mutswairo, Dambudzo Marechera,
Shimmer Chinodya, Chenjerai Hove, Yvonne Vera,
Alexander Kanengoni, J. Nozipo Maraire, and Batisai
Parwada are among Zimbabwe’s writers in English. Tsitsi
Dangarembga wrote Nervous Conditions (1988), a story
of two Shona girls, Tambudzai and Nyasha, both
attempting to find their place in contemporary Zimbabwe.
Nyasha has been abroad and wonders about the effect that
Westernization has had on her and her family, while
Tambudzai is longing to break out of her traditional
world. Looming in the background are mythic figures,
including Lucia, Tambudzai’s aunt.
Doris Lessing is a British writer who spent her early years
in what is today Zimbabwe. Her novel The Grass Is
Singing (1950) centres on Dick Turner and Mary Turner,
a white couple attempting to become a part of the rural
African landscape. Lessing depicts a stereotyped African
character, Moses, a black servant, whose name gives him
historical and religious resonance. He becomes dominant
over the European Mary, manipulating her fears and love
of him until in the end he destroys her. Lessing finds
mythic fantasy dimensions in the Europeans, much as
Mustafa Sa’eed does in the women of England in al-
Ṭayyib Ṣāliḥ’s novel Season of Migration to the
North (1966).
There is much writing in English by expatriates that is
rooted in South Africa, from the poetry of Thomas
Pringle to E.A. Kendall’s The English Boy at the
Cape (1835), the novels of H. Rider Haggard and John
Buchan, and Turning Wheels (1937), by Stuart
Cloete. Olive Schreiner was the first major South African-
born writer. Her novel The Story of an African
Farm (1883) continues to have an international resonance.
Pauline Smith wrote powerful short stories; her novel The
Beadle (1926) deals largely with the experiences of
Afrikaners in the Eastern Cape region. Sarah Gertrude
Millin had an international audience with such works
as God’s Stepchildren (1924). The short-lived literary
review Voorslag (“Whiplash”), begun in 1926, published
for wider audiences work by such poets as Roy
Campbell, William Plomer, and Laurens van der Post.
A common subject in the works of the many South
African authors writing in English during the 20th century
is the racial segregation, codified as apartheid in 1948,
that dominated the country until the early 1990s. In two
early novels, Mine Boy (1946), by Peter Abrahams,
and Cry, the Beloved Country (1948), by Alan Paton,
black Africans go to Johannesburg and experience the
terror of apartheid. In To Every Birth Its
Blood (1981), Mongane Wally Serote tells the stories of
Tsi Molope and Oupa Molope. Tsi looks to his past and
wonders, “Where does a river begin to take its journey to
the sea?” The world in which Oupa—the son of Mary,
Tsi’s sister—lives postdates the Soweto uprising of 1976,
a time when resistance to apartheid took hold of a new
generation and South Africa witnessed attacks and
bombings. Because of their experiences with the police,
the Molope family becomes more politicized. Serote
wants the reader to see the human side of his characters—
their vulnerabilities, their uncertainties—while he also
wants to demonstrate that it is not an easy matter to make
the revolutionary leap. A Ride on the Whirlwind (1981),
by Sydney Sipho Sepamla, which is set in Soweto,
exposes the fearful effects of apartheid.
The playwright Athol Fugard in 1982 produced his
play “Master Harold”…and the Boys, the story of a white
boy, Hally, in a restaurant in which two black African
men, Willie Malopo and Sam Semela, are waiters. It is a
story of a boy’s coming of age within the realities of the
racist system of South Africa. As the story develops,
Hally transfers his fear, love, and hate of his father to
Sam, and in the end he treats Sam as he cannot treat his
father. The result is to open anew the wounds
of apartheid. The novel July’s People (1981), by Nadine
Gordimer, who received the Nobel Prize for Literature in
1991, takes place in an imagined postindependence South
Africa. The story deals with the Smales, a white couple,
and their relationship with July, their black servant. By
means of flashbacks the Smales reconstruct their past, the
world of a Johannesburg suburb during the apartheid
period. There is a war, and Maureen Smale and Bamford
Smale escape from their suburban home and go north,
where these erstwhile liberals come to July’s rural home
and learn, by their interactions with July and his family
and friends, that they cannot move past their former
relationship with their servant and cannot see him from
any perspective but that of liberal, self-confident white
overlords. That hopelessly compromised position is the
impasse that Gordimer investigates in this novel. D.M.
Zwelonke is the pseudonymous author of Robben
Island (1973), a novel dealing with the political prison
maintained by the South African government off the
shores of Cape Town from the mid-1960s. It is the story
of Bekimpi, an African political leader jailed at Robben
Island, and it relates his dreams and fantasies, his despair
and anger, and his torture and death.
Athol Fugard (centre) with actors John Kani (left) and Winston Ntshona,
1973.Evening Standard/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

J.M. Coetzee, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in

2003, wrote Life and Times of Michael K (1983), a story
with a blurred hero and an indistinct historical and
geographical background. It describes a war that could be
any war, a country that could be any country,
a bureaucracy that could be any bureaucracy. Through it
all, Michael K—a frail, nondescript, mute man of 30,
born with a cleft lip—survives, not betraying his past, for
he has no past, tied as he is to the unbroken continuity of
history. So does Coetzee link apartheid to the ages. The
novel becomes, in the end, an affirmation of humanity;
the Earth is destroyed, a man is incarcerated, but he will
return, crawling out of the dust of ruin, re-creating the
Earth, making it grow and fructify.
Maru (1971), a novel by Bessie Head, tells a story about
the liberation of the San people from ethnic and racial
oppression and about the liberation of the Tswana people
of Dilepe from their prejudices and hatreds. It is a story of
a flawed world and the attempts of two mythic people,
Maru and Margaret Cadmore, to restore it to its former
perfection. It is also a love story—Margaret, the loathed
Masarwa, opens the hearts of Moleka and Dikeledi—as
well as a political story—Margaret animates Maru’s
political vision with love and art. In the end, Maru is a
realistic story with a mythic overlay in which oral and
literary traditions are brought together.

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