A Discussion on Kitereza at the University of Minnesota

Today, at the University of Minnesota, Dr. Charlotte (Shoonie) Hartwig and I discussed Aniceti Kitereza, a distinguished writer who is, however, not well known. Shoonie has been writing a book, and the presentation today centered on this project.

Kitereza was born in 1896 on Ukerewe Island in the Tanzanian part of Lake Victoria. As he grew up he became passionate about recording the traditions and culture of his people. As part of this process, he wrote a great novel in Kerebe, his mother tongue, completing it in early 1945. It is a detailed account of the traditional Kerebe way of life which Kitereza chose to present in fictional form in order to make it interesting to read.

After a protracted and fruitless search for a publisher, and following the advice of his American friends, Kitereza translated his novel into Swahili. Still, he waited many years before the novel was published in 1980 as Bwana Myombekere na Bibi Bugonoka na Ntulanalwo na Buliwhali.

Shoonie is uniquely qualified to talk about Kitereza since she and her husband, the late Dr. Gerald Hartwig, knew him well, having first met him in 1968 in Ukerewe. They had extensive correspondence with him to the end of his life. Kitereza was a prolific letter writer. In today's presentation, Shoonie shared an overview of Kitereza's life and work, illustrated with slides. She stated that Kitereza worked tirelessly to preserve the traditions of his people, guided by a question that he himself posed: "What must we teach our children?"

I gave a brief overview of Kitereza's work from my perspective as a literary scholar and folklorist. I highlighted several key issues that feature in discussions of African literature, especially writing in African languages and translation. I noted how Bwana Myombekere might affect the way we conceptualize the evolution of the African novel and how Bwana Myombekere might be seen in relation to the work of writers like Daniel O. Fagunwa and Amos Tutuola of Nigeria, Gakaara wa Wanjau of Kenya, and Shaaban Robert of Tanzania. This would be a study in comparative literature.

I have read Kitereza's Swahili translation of his novel. His Swahili, though different from standard Swahili, has the flavour of oral storytelling in a Bantu language such as my own Matengo. I liked it for this reason. Kitereza's novel has been translated into French and German, but according to Professor Gabriel Ruhumbika, a native Kerebe speaker and well-known translator, those translations have unnecessary deficiencies.

Professor Ruhumbika has translated Kitereza's original Kerebe novel into English and published it as Mr. Myombekere and His Wife Bugonoka, Their Son Ntulanalwo and Daughter Buliwhali. Having read it, I find it as engaging as Kitereza's Swahili translation. It deserves to be widely read. I will say the same thing about Shoonie's forthcoming book, a personal account laden with information hitherto not available to the world.

My translation of "A Time to Talk" (Robert Frost)

Today, out of the blue, I decided to translate Robert Frost's short poem, "A Time to Talk," into Swahili. From time to time, I translate folklore and poetry, undeterred by the perils and uncertainties of the process. I work with three languages: Matengo, Swahili, and English. My most ambitious work of translation so far is Matengo Folktales.

I encountered Frost for the first time when I was a high school student in Tanzania, 1971-72. We read Frost's famous poem, "The Road Not Taken." It was only three years ago, however, that I first read "A Time to Talk," when my daughter Zawadi bought me an anthology of Frost's poems, Robert Frost: Selected Poems. I was then in hospital in Minneapolis, and my daughter, knowing that I am a bookworm, thought a book of poems would lighten my days.

As soon as I got the book, I started reading it. Among the poems that struck me the most was "A Time to Talk." I marveled at how Frost evokes rural life and realities and expresses his sentiments about alienation and the erosion of human values.
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A TIME TO TALK (Robert Frost, 1874-1963)

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

MUDA WA MAONGEZI

Rafiki anaponiita kutoka barabarani
Huku akipunguza kwa makusudi mwendo wa farasi wake,
Sisimami tu na kuangalia huko na huko
Kubaini idadi ya vilima ambavyo bado sijalima,
Na kisha kupaaza sauti pale nilipo, Vipi?
Hapana, hapana kwani kuna muda wa kuongea.
Nasimika jembe langu katika ardhi tepetepe,
Ubapa wa jembe ukiwa juu futi tano toka ardhini,
Na ninatembea: ninaelekea kwenye ukuta wa mawe
Kukutana na rafiki.

"Nyang'au:" A Swahili Poem by Haji Gora Haji

For a number of days, I have been reading Kimbunga, an anthology of Swahili poems by Haji Gora Haji of Zanzibar. I have also been drawn to translating some of them. Having translated "Kimbunga," I decided to translate "Nyang'au," a poem that draws from the oral tradition of story telling as do a number of other poems by Haji Gora Haji.

"Nyang'au" is built around two characters: a human being and a hyena. Interestingly, if not paradoxically, throughout the drama involving the two, we learn about the hyena's feelings and motivations, but not those of the man. This, I can say, is because the man is oblivious to the presence of the hyena. The fact that we, as witnesses, know everything that is going on affords the action a certain dramatic irony.

As an animal, the hyena carries sinister associations in the cultures of many parts of Africa and elsewhere. From ancient times, the hyena has been featured in paintings, sculpture and other art forms. In his Green Hills of Africa, in which he describes various East African animals, Ernest Hemingway expresses his dislike of the hyena.

Hyena features predominantly as the dupe in the folktales of Eastern, Central and Southern Africa. Driven by greed, he always lands in deep trouble, on account of either his own stupid decisions or the trickster's intrigues. Haji Gora Haji's "Nyang'au," which we can read as a fable, belongs in a vast, age-old tradition of representation.

                              
                               Nyang'au

1.        Fisi alikichakani, mtu kapita haraka
          Kwa vile yuko mbiyoni, mkono unakwepuka
          Ndipo akatumaini, karibu ya kuanguka
          Mate yakimdondoka, kwa tamaa ya mkono

2.       Kayanowa yake meno, tayari na kujiweka
          Ukidondoka mkono, afike na kuudaka
          Ajipatie vinono, ale na kufaidika
          Mate yakimdondoka, kwa tamaa ya mkono

3.       Kafata huku na kule, hakuwa mwenye kuchoka
          Fisi nyuma mtu mbele, endako ajipeleka
          Kungoja mkono ule, apate kunufaika
          Mate yakimdondoka, kwa tamaa ya mkono

4.       Hakujuwa kama vile, mkono kupeperuka
          Ndiyo yake maumbile, si kwa kuwa wakwanyuka
          Kafatia vile vile, kwa tamaa kumshika
          Mate yakimdondoka, kwa tamaa ya mkono

5.        Yule anayemfata, anakokwenda kafika
          Ndoto aliyoiota, ikakosa uhakika
          Mkono hakuupata, bure alihangaika
          Majuto yakamfika, hakuupata mkono


                                The Hyena

1.       The hyena was in the bush, when a man hurried past
          Speeding as he was, his arm flagged about
          Raising the hyena's hopes that soon it would fall off
          He kept salivating, hungering for the arm

2.       He sharpened his teeth, positioning himself properly
          So that when the arm fell off, he should promptly catch it
          And enjoy a tasty treat, eating to satisfaction
          He kept salivating, hungering for the arm

3.       He followed hither and thither, not one to tire of striving
          Coming behind with the man ahead, the hyena trailed the man
          Waiting for that arm, hoping to feast on it
          He kept salivating, hungering for the arm

4.       Little did he know, that for the arm to flap about
          Was its natural wont, no harbinger of dismemberment
          He nevertheless kept following, choking with desire
          He kept salivating, hungering for the arm

5.       The one he was following, reached his destination
          The dream he had been dreaming, ended in uncertainty
          The arm he failed to get, in vain had he striven
          Deep regrets assailed him, for failing to get the arm.

"Kimbunga:" A Swahili Poem With My English Translation

Swahili, a major African language spoken mostly in Eastern Africa, boasts a written poetic tradition going back several centuries. Evolving on the northern Kenya coast, Swahili spread down the coast and adjacent islands as far as Mozambique, the Comoros, and Madagascar.

Among the greatest Swahili poets are Ali Koti, Bwana Mwengo, Muyaka bin Haji, Mwana Kupona, Shaaban Robert, Ahmed Sheikh Nabhany, Amiri Sudi Andanenga, Abdilatif Abdalla, and Haji Gora Haji, one of whose poems, "Kimbunga," I am presenting here, with my English translation.

A prolific writer, Haji Gora Haji has published poetry, fiction, a dictionary of the Tumbatu dialect of Swahili, and other works. I was privileged to interview him in Zanzibar. This poem, one of Haji Gora Haji's best known, appears in Kimbunga, his first poetry anthology.

Translating works of literature is a challenging and humbling experience. However, it is also rewarding, sharpening one's understanding and appreciation of language, poetics, and aesthetics.

"Kimbunga" is a moving but intriguing poem. It strikes me as an apocalyptic vision reminiscent of W.B. Yeats's "The Second Coming," while exemplifying perfectly Cleanth Brooks's characterization of the language of poetry as "the language of paradox." I hope someday to write about it and my experience of translating it.

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                               Kimbunga

1.     Kimbunga mji wa Siyu, kilichowahi kufika
       Si kwa yule wala huyu, ilikuwa patashika
       Kimeing'owa mibuyu, minazi kunusurika
       Nyoyo zilifadhaika.

2.     Yalizuka majabali, yakabirukabiruka
       Zikadidimia meli, ngarawa zikaokoka
       Kimbunga hicho kikali, mavumbi hayakuruka
       Nyoyo zilifadhaika.

3.     Nyumba kubwa za ghorofa, siku hiyo zimeruka
       Zikenenda kwa masafa, kufikia kwa kufika
       Vibanda vyao malofa, vyote vikasalimika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.

4.     Chura kakausha mto, maji yakamalizika
       Pwani kulikuwa moto, mawimbi yaliyowaka
       Usufi nusu kipeto, rikwama limevunjika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.

5.     Kuna kikongwe ajuza, viumbe kimewateka
       Hicho kinamiujiza, kila rangi hugeuka
       Wataokiendekeza, hilaki zitawafika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.


                                 A Hurricane

1.     A hurricane once arrived in Siyu town
       Sparing neither that one nor this one, it was sheer mayhem
       It uprooted baobab trees, the coconut trees surviving
       Hearts went panicking.

2.    Big rocks turned up, tumbling over and over
       Ships were sinking, while mere boats survived
       Fearsome as the hurricane was, it raised no dust
       Hearts went panicking

3.     Great storied houses were blown away that day
       They flew quite a distance, landing wherever they landed
       The huts of the lowly, all survived intact
       And hearts went panicking

4.     The frog drained the river, the water all dried up
       On the shore was conflagration, of the waves flaming
       Half a container of kapok, broke the coolie's cart
       And hearts went panicking

5.     A wizened hag there was, who held beings captive
       She is given to magical powers, changing hues at will
       Those who let her be, perdition will be their lot
       And hearts will go panicking.

Another Request for a Translation of my Book

From time to time, American readers of my book, Africans and Americans: Embracing Cultural Differences, have asked me whether there is a Swahili translation of it, and some have requested me to translate it. These are people who have lived in East Africa, as volunteers or visitors, and in inquiring about a translation, they are thinking of the East Africans.

Unfortunately, I have not yet translated the book, even though I have wished to do so for a long time. I know I could easily do it, seizing the opportunity to express in Swahili the ideas and sentiments I have expressed in English, and I have imagined the translation having its own distinctive qualities, different from the original.

Yesterday, I got another request from an American woman whom I don't know. I am so touched by her message that I could not resist sharing some of it here. I have placed dots where I have omitted sentences or phrases:

....I hope one day that you will translate your wonderful book. It is such a wealth of knowledge for me, and I know my Tanzanian friends would feel the same. Of course most good people would never mean to hurt or offend a new acquaintance, but sometimes when we are lucky enough to make a friend from a different country, we can use a little guidance on how to be respectful of each others cultural differences. Your book has given me that gift, and so I thank you for that!....Last year I went to Africa for the wildlife, but I found it was the Tanzanian people who stole my heart. This year I will return and visit Eli's village and meet his family. I am so excited about my visit. That is why it is so important to me to do my best to not be the classic "UGLY AMERICAN". Thank you again for your response. I hope you will consider writing the Kiswahili version of your book in the future. I know there would be many people who would find it both helpful and fascinating, as I did....

I have nothing to say except to remind myself of the famous Latin adage,"Vox Dei vox populi" (the voice of the people is the voice of God), and seriously prepare to translate the book. I thank my American readers for being so supportive of my efforts.