The Fabulist’s Bindle
IT WAS early 1969 when the solemn routine of the Khumalos was shattered. One early morning their eldest son, Misani, bid them farewell. None of the family members had been prepared for this – no one knew when or whether they would see him again and the news came as a shock. After all, like most black parents at the time they had invested much in their children’s education and wanted them to study at Fort Hare university so they could uplift their communities.
But Misani had different ideas – he wanted to go abroad to join the liberation army of the ANC. His plan was to skip the border to Swaziland and make contact with the then-banned ANC there.
His mother was angry with this decision, but was equally proud of her son – it was a badge of honour to have a family member who was either a political prisoner on Robben Island, or in exile.
For a long time they did not hear from Misani, and when they finally did the letter was full of coded language to confuse the security agents in South Africa. But like any mother knows what her baby’s babbling means, the family knew what he meant.
Mehluli Nxumalo recounts this story with so much emotion that you can understand not only the South African politics at that time, but also why many women and men left the country under such terrifying circumstances and endured hardships in a foreign land but encouraged by a vision – to liberate black South Africans. But Nxumalo’s book,
is not just one story – it’s a collection of 11 stories – all with a common thread of the ordinary lives of the “native” people in the fictional “Bantuland” and the tactics they developed to outsmart an oppressive system.
Take for instance the story of Vusi, who would in today’s language, earn himself the term “clever black” – in a positive way.
Africans are known for sharing even the little they have. Vusi, having been raised by a parent who worked for a circus and learnt the tricks of taming animals, started a scheme of doubling investors’ money in two weeks. Bantuland Capital was a pyramid scheme and Vusi knew the legal consequences. But when confronted, he used a Latin phrase to explain his dealings:
which means “to a willing person, no injury is done”.
Those who willingly placed themselves in harm’s way knowing that harm may result, they had no basis to sue if the foreseen harm actually resulted. Thus, according to Vusi, he was not committing any fraud.
In one of the chapters, Nxumalo tells of how after completing matric, he went in search of his brother in exile and his subsequent meetings with the late Tambos.
His brother offered to take him out to dinner at very fancy restaurants in London. But as custom had it, they would be served a basket of bread first before placing their meal orders. They visited three restaurants because his brother played the race card, but by the time they left the third restaurant they were so full from all the bread they had eaten, there was no need to part with any pounds or shillings.
The stories are written with so much humour that even though you are reminded of the harsh realities of the life that people endured under colonialism and other brutal systems, you can’t harbour anger and bitterness.
In fact, you sense that the writer has liberated himself from that hard past; that when he now looks back at it, he does so with peace and has risen above it because he was able to define freedom for himself.
Some of the stories are terrifying and unimaginable in the 21st century but one realises that freedom cost much.
In the book there’s also a story about a man who built himself what locals termed Noah’s Ark – selling fruit that Swaziland is blessed with to travellers in order to make a living – a woman who sold brewed alcohol, relationships forged through harsh circumstances and many many more. His narrative style has a fierce emotional pull – I laughed through tears – one moment I wanted to put the book down when he recounted events that dehumanised people but the next I would be laughing because he would describe the next story with so much wit.
A well-worth read for anyone who wants to understand that freedom costs – and it costs much. But also the fact that to complete the freedom, you need to have an authentic belief in the vision it was built on. So on one hand, while there is the notion of being free physically, there are other aspects of bondage that need to be challenged to be free indeed.
I am keeping a copy not only for myself but also for my family and my future grandchildren to constantly challenge ourselves of the greater purpose and the meaning of freedom.