THE REPREHENSIBLE RAPE

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI


It was an extraordinary sight in front of the usually placid Magistrates’ court in Bloemfontein city, the judicial capital of South Africa, as medical personnel, mainly doctors, nurses and the likeS chanted, carrying placards, luridly condemning the rape of one of their colleagues.

It has become something of a cause celebre in South Africa – the infamous, shocking rape of a selfless female doctor at the mammoth Pelonomi hospital, with commissioners and premiers having their say about the episode. And as the suspects were wheeled into the front of the court, massive demonstrations took place.

Briefly, what happened was this: On the ill-starred night in question the female doctor was going about her nocturnal duties in the hospital as usual, from all accounts she was jovial and empathetic as ever. Then three “gentlemen” suddenly accosted her and it soon became clear that their intentions were in no way honourable.

Savagely, the female doctor was hit with a brick and she became stunned and immobile. Allegedly the three men then proceeded to rape her one by one. Afterwards she somehow struggled up in pain, notified her husband and other colleagues about what had happened to her.

Rape is a common crime in South Africa, but this time the society itself was galvanised into action. The suspects were soon rounded up and everybody had their penny worth of opinions and condemnations, with ANC, African National Congress, brought to the fore. The medical establishment began to press for justice. Something had to be done.

Government immediately announced that they would be overhauling the security system at the hospital and promised that nothing like this would happen again. The legions of female employees at hospitals naturally cried out fervently, wondering how they could do their job with the possibility of rapes hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles.

And that is precisely the point. The incidence of rape is reportedly too rampant in South Africa, to the extent that hardly anybody is enraged at the plethora of regular reports. Sadly, many women are not only raped, but actually slaughtered during certain rapes. It appears that people become extremely enraged only when high profile women are raped.

A Banyana Banyana, South African national football team girl was brutally raped and killed, reportedly because of her lesbian proclivities. But what about the many “ordinary” women who are regularly traumatised and even killed by rapists?

I must admit that I personally know quite a number of South African women who have been raped, and their accounts are heart-rending. Of course, despite all these reports, I generally believe that majority of South African men are decent and would never dream of taking a woman by force. The problem is the criminal, degenerate fringe, the thoughtless unconscionable criminals.

As the Yorubas would say: “Eniyan buruku ti b’eyan re je,” the few horrible people have facilitated a situation where good people have been tarred with the same unsavoury brush. The reality on ground now is that women should be more careful than usual in Afrika Borwa (South Africa).

Till next time...

THE CORUSCATING LESOTHO BARD

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

“The love of a man and a woman has always been special but lately it’s exploited and ripped out of its definition…women, recall and respect men for their position, and you men, remember (that) women are just a rib of your whole package – they are highly fragile; that’s why they need your touch”

- Sheila Khala, in FORMULA

It is not the province nor perimeter of this short piece to ponder whether the above quotation – penned by a very young female writer from Lesotho is essentially true or false. Suffice it to say that I am more concerned with the exhilarating emergence of the author (Sheila Khala) herself.

Having said this, I must briefly point out that whilst younger, I was very much intrigued with the book, The anatomy of feminine power produced by one of the most erudite and brilliant African intellectuals, Chinweizu. For him, women’s fragility is a façade; they are actually the opposite!

And world history has also churned out many examples of how “un-fragile” women can be, especially during warfare: the dreaded Amazons (female warriors) of erstwhile Dahomey; and the role of women during the French evolution when “the women returned with the heads of those who had fallen…baying for even more blood…it was a most shocking scene”

Most of us we men will however like to believe that women might well be “highly fragile” – even if it’s mainly in our dreams!

But back to Sheila N. Khala. Remarkably she was only 19 when she published her first book of poems (Formula) which was published in 2009. She is a dynamic and fecund poet in every sense of the word. It is understood that her second book of poems will soon be out.

For lovers of literature, there is always that frisson of excitement when a new and very young writer takes the stage. Of course these days more and more African women are making big strides in the genre of writing. Sheila is already holding her head high in poignant African female black writing at a very young age – reminding us of international icons like Buchi Emecheta, Tsitsi Dangarembga, Helen Oyeyemi etc who did the same.

Of course a lot of cynicism is entwined within the warp and weft of creative writing, especially where new voices are concerned. Some literary protagonists have stated that “Sheila is probably one-dimensional; a good poet. She can’t produce stuff like fiction that would cement her stature even more as a writer”

But I beg to disagree. There are more than enough glimpses in Sheila’s poetry to suggest that she can be creative, fluent and evocative when she wants to. For example in her poem, “I love you” she writes inter alia:

“When you see me
Do you have a heartbeat that
Accelerates as space becomes thinner?
Or you can’t wait for me to walk out of the door
So you exhale a deep breath of Relief…
How do you react when you walk towards me
Are you faking the butterflies you claim run in your stomach?”


For aficionados of African literature, note the name: Sheila N Khala

This columnist will like to hark on the obvious now –

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

THE MUSICAL MAESTROS

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

“T’emu ba funfun balau ninu igba
Kan mi igba kan
Se kan ko mi, ko tun se kan ko ra re
K’a jo ma mu lo!!!”

Since members of my particular generation were kids, we have been captivated by the extraordinary brilliance, brio and prowess of “King” Sunny Ade with the guitar; and his complementary lyrics as exemplified by the above quote.

There was always an acute, irresistible rhythmic perfection in Sunny Ade’s songs – he was more than a legend in Yorubaland, so to speak. Kids and adults reeled off the memorable, even esoteric words from his many songs over the decades – all over the world really. But it was his artistry with the guitar that set him on the way to what one might even call his apotheosis.

Wherever you see Yoruba people anywhere in the world (including in South Africa here) you can be sure Sunny Ade’s songs, his old classics, would still be treasured. Tales are still told about live performances dished out by the great man; as he strummed on his guitar many people seemed to go crazy!

It has always fascinated me the intriguing personalities of those enamoured with the guitar, no matter their colour or nationality. “Guitar men and women” always seem to stand out. Their transcendental devotion to their craft, their unique personalities, the general way they seem to be wrapped up in their own world...

Like my friend Deon Simphiwe, multi-talented South Artist based in Cape Town; who would put it this way: “Acoustics strings – strumming on life with all its follies and triumphs – don’t intend to hit a note” Whatever this means! These artists many times seem to exist in their own arcane world.

And again like my pal, Seleke in the Free State, such a fine, accomplished guitarist. A man who has given so much to music; a familiar respected figure with his guitar in South Africa; he has also belted out series of moving songs. He also has that ethereal feel about him – though he can be worldly wise!

We often take our friends for granted, and seem not to appreciate them intermittently. Seleke has supported me, or been beside me at so many crucial moments, eg when I was conferred with the Chancellor’s Medal by the University of the Free State. We even appear together on one of the covers of my books! But on my own part, I don’t think I have supported him enough. But we are still close pals.

The point is that Seleke is a brilliant musician and guitarist, one of South Africa’s best. He is at his happiest and best when he performs at major musical events, like the mammoth Vuka (Music) Festival that took place in the City of Roses in South Africa in December (2010) How proud of him I was! How he lapped up the applause!

Hmm...these guitarists. Yet there is a difference between guitarists in Nigeria and their South African counterparts. Here in South Africa it seems they are more subdued, staid, “intellectual”, perhaps more cosmopolitan. But Nigerian guitarists, musicians, are often so off the cuff, even whacky, a whirlwind of spontaneity, playing to the gallery – epitomes of jabulane!! (fun)

THE GRISLY SIGHT

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Pandemonium reigned as everybody around reeled with profound shock at the horrific discovery. People gathered at the site not believing what they were seeing...how could the house of God be desecrated in such an unedifying way?

But there was no running away from the evidence before their own eyes. Even as police cars screeched to a halt here at JB Mafora, Mangaung, South African township, tears welled up in many and the dam broke with most people crying inconsolably. And they were not alone.

Even some of the police officers soon joined the fray of those weeping as they contemplated the plight of what had been a full bodied promising young man. Now he had not only been killed in the premises of a Church (Jesus Never Fails Ministry), his body had been mercilessly mutilated, cut to pieces by ruthless miscreants!

Soon it emerged that the murdered and mutilated gentleman was 27-year old Stephen Nakedi. Flaxman Qoopane, a distinguished South African journalist was one of the first people at the scene, before giving me a call. “It was terrible,” he told me. “I have never seen anything like it. The dead man was cut to pieces...it was the first time I would see the police at a scene crying.”

Mr. Flaxman indeed tracked down the family of the poor young man who had been brutally murdered, and it was a terrible interview indeed. All I could do was watch and take in the palpable, heartfelt anger, sorrow and indignation of the community. This was a muti-murder of course.

Muti murder? Yes, what in Nigeria would be called juju or oogun murder, the type Nigerian author, Victor Thorpe made famous in his novel, The Worshippers. But right here in South Africa, this was no fiction – as the police discovered parts of the body of the pertinent murdered young man and arrested some suspects.

Part of the outrage involved the fact that Stephen Nakedi had been murdered in the premises of a church. As South African pastor and author, Thabo Mafike told me: “This is unfortunate, Mr Bolaji. It shows that those people responsible, the evil people who cut Stephen Nakedi to pieces did not have any scruples about killing him at what should be a sacrosanct place. It is very sad!”

Such muti murders do take place in South Africa every now and then, mainly because of the belief that certain choice body parts are useful and can be used by South African sangomas, witch doctors/babalawos, to increase good fortune, a belief alas held in many parts of Africa. But what about the horrific plight of the person unfortunate to be ruthlessly attacked and cut to pieces? Apparently in such cases only a miracle can save the hapless victim.

Such a miracle did happen a couple of years ago in South Africa, in a celebrated case where one night, a young lady was attacked by such muti killers who were about to use their vicious knives and inflict a horrendous painful death on her in a sort of glade. And then a big snake suddenly appeared from nowhere and attacked the attackers, ran for their lives leaving the girl alone! Such a pity that there was no reprieve for poor, poor Stephen Nakedi!

THE PLAYWRIGHTS

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

The weather was barmy and erratic on this particular day in Bloemfontein city in South Africa as what should have been a rather hot summer day turned out to be quite cold and withering. But life must go on. I was doing a little shopping inside one of South Africa’s major supermarkets.

At the counter, as I was about to pay for items purchased, the lady cashier suddenly smiled, beaming: “Hi Ntate (Mr) Bolaji! Hi!!” she said. I winced a bit, as I could not easily recognise her, one of my bad habits! My first impression was that she had seen my photo in a local newspaper or magazine, or in one of my books.“Don’t you remember me? I am Lerato,” she went on, a bit disappointed.

She explained loudly, to other ladies working in the supermarket. “This is the man who wrote the play, Joo, Letla Shwa- Letla Botswa, which we acted in Ladybrand (town). Ntate Bolaji, the playwright. Remember you once travelled to Ladybrand to watch us on stage?”I nodded. She went on: “Mr Pule Lechesa introduced you to us (the actors) then. You were discussing which version of your play you preferred; the play being acted in English, or in Sesotho (South African) language. But we were then acting the play from the Sesotho translation. I acted the part of Violet, the young lady.”

I remembered now. The name of my play, originally written and published in English, was The Subtle Transgressor. Pule Lechesa (above) was the brilliant South African writer who translated the play into the Sesotho language as Joo, Letla Shwa- Letla Botswa. His translation had been something of a bestseller, and he also ensured that it was on stage in his hometown, Ladybrand.

Now in the supermarket, the young lady, Lerato asked me the last time I had seen Pule Lechesa. I tried to answer her quickly, but I was a bit embarrassed now as a few people were behind me on the small queue who wanted to pay for their goods too. I moved sideways, picked up my big plastic bag containing what I had bought and smiled at the lady. “It’s been nice meeting you again,” I said. Meanwhile, one of the nearby ladies there added in a friendly fashion: “I know you write books, but I did not know you also wrote plays," Lerato said: “He’s a modest man; he’s a great playwright!”

Now I really felt embarrassed. It is a pity really how many people use descriptions sloppily, even flippantly; though ignorance might be a mitigating factor for this. Coming from Nigeria, I would never describe myself as a distinguished playwright, considering the world class playwrights Nigeria has produced over the decades. Illustrious playwrights like JP Clark, Wole Soyinka, Zulu Sofola, Laolu Ogunniyi, Ola Rotimi, to mention but a few.

Over the years, my firm favourite among Nigerian playwrights had always been Ola Rotimi, though. Maybe because at a very tender age we had to study his play Kurunmi in school of which many of us knew many parts of it by heart as kids. I did read many of Wole Soyinka’s plays too; but later on I was to admire the Nigerian female playwright, Zulu Sofola indeed!

And of course, in nearby Ghana, Ama Ata Aidoo and Efua T. Sutherland have been remarkable female playwrights too. Aidoo’s The Dilemma of a Ghost used to fascinate me. The late Efua Sutherland was a genius as regards the theatre, and whilst at school we had to read her funny play, The marriage of Anansewa too.

But I suppose I have to admit that in my own small way, I am a playwright too.

BOOK REVIEW

By PAUL LOTHANE

Book: OMOSEYE BOLAJI
Author: Hector Kunene
Publisher: New Voices Publishing (Cape Town)
Pages: 117
Reviewer: Paul Lothane

This is a beautiful book put together by Mr Hector Kunene; proving once again that he is “a real breath of fresh air in the literary sphere” as Mr Lechesa puts it. This is a book that will really put the Free State on the map!

This new book bears comparison with virtually every major study on key African writers over the years – eg Fraser’s study on Ayi Kwei Armah; Dr Adele King’s study on Camara Laye; Wild’s initial study on Dambudzo Marechera; Mary Ebun Modupe Kolawole's study on the late Zulu Sofola. This is a book that will be treasured by the scholars and lovers of literature for generations to come.

Kunene has gone out of his way to present a most pleasing book – apart from the main body of about 30 articles on Omoseye Bolaji’s works. There is the interesting introduction, revealing interviews late on in the study, an excellent piece by Ishmael Soqaka, and the book concludes with a world class Bibliography at the very end.

The articles, critiques etc themselves cover a wide range. All the books of poetry produced by Bolaji are reviewed. The most visible aspect of his writings; the fiction, is also extensively covered. Contributors like Peter Moroe, Pule Lechesa, Aryan Kaganof, Raphael Mokoena, yours truly, Hector himself – all have their say.

Such an excellent work challenges the critic who is in danger of becoming a “praise singer” as Lechesa puts it in one of his books. But of course this new work is not free of a few blemishes – happily such weaknesses are confined mainly to the Introduction to this book.

Hector, in his introduction shows what some critics refer to as a “butterfly mind” which is not necessarily a bad thing; but he also puts together many contradictory and illogical statements. Let’s take two of them here:

“I even asked him (Bolaji) how he expects to be well known if he was so private and distant and he would simply smile and shy away...”
(Page 17)

Also:

“Bolaji does not strike as a public figure; I continue to question myself how he has managed to survive in this industry that is dominant in competition whilst keeping a low profile. Can it be perhaps that he manages to keep up with the pressure...?”
(Page 14)

Yet, from the beginning and throughout his introduction the author keeps on stressing how much he wanted to meet the “great” Bolaji, the “legend” Bolaji - he repeats this many a time. Hector himself goes out of his way to track Bolaji down. This clearly shows that Bolaji’s fame already preceded him in the literary world despite his low profile. Hector ironically confirms this himself in the following passage which again contradicts what he is claiming:

“Whilst Bolaji and I were journeying the streets of Bloemfontein (people) would raise their fists in the air when greeting him, and in return he raises his fist back at them, smiling...I even feel like I am walking with David Beckham or a Will Smith”
(Page 15)

We should also note that the “competition” and “pressure” (in writing) Hector refers to is largely a creation of his own imagination, or his own approach to life. Distinguished writers like Bolaji who have amassed top quality awards and accolades for writing have a large corpus of published works and complementary studies which already speak for themselves; they do not need to be childishly running up and down “competing” or seeking cheap publicity.

But these are just minor blemishes in what is a stunning, superb work put together by Hector Kunene.

* At the insistence of the reviewer, Mr Lothane, this article has been placed here as the latest “Letter from South Africa” normally written by Omoseye Bolaji

Free State Stadium - Top notch!

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI


On Sunday October 10, 2010, I was at the Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein City, South Africa to witness the Macufe Cup football clash between two key clubs, Kaizer Chiefs and Bloemfontein Celtic.

My mind briefly wandered to the days I was an avid football follower in Nigeria, then, a regular at the Stadia like Liberty Stadium, Adamasingba, Sportscity, Surulere, Onikan stadia. I was (still) a sucker for the extravagantly skillful football player – the likes of Etim Essien, Samson Siasia, Kayode Balogun among others

How well I remember the 1989 national team of Nigeria which should have gone on to qualify for the World Cup finals and rock the world like Cameroon did in 1990. With talents like Stephen Keshi, Siasia, Etim Essien, Wole Odegbami, Richard Owubokiri etc, that was a skillful team indeed. But it was not to be, and Nigeria very narrowly missed out on qualification.

Now as I was ensconced at the Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein, my mind again went back to the days I came here regularly to cover games for South African national publications like Sowetan and Sapa; days of mixing with the crème de la crème of South African football writers, white and black – Sy Lerman, Mark Glesson, Teboho Setena, Mpikeleni Duma, etc.

The Free State Stadium was of course one of the venues that hosted the World Cup games some months ago when South Africa proudly hosted the world. A number of key matches were played there including the England vs Germany clash, and South Africa vs France. But from the Nigerian perspective, the Greece vs Nigeria World Cup match was eagerly awaited at that time at this stadium.

How well I remember that ill-starred game! It was a very cold day in Bloemfontein, but at least the game took place in the afternoon. Nigerians flocked to the stadium so sure that the Super Eagles would win – happily recollecting the 2-0 World Cup win over Greece in 1994.But it was not to be.

Although the Eagles took an early lead, they were to throw everything away as the match petered out. 1- 0 in favour of Nigeria became a depressing 2-1 loss and many Nigerians were incensed and none too happy with the loss by the Eagles side which was reduced to ten men. It was dispiriting stuff.

Of course the international focus was extraordinary when Germany played England during the World Cup at the Free State Stadium. It was again uncanny how the English fans managed to make their way to Bloemfontein in many thousands to support their team. A few days earlier, I had been in Johannesburg and met a number of English fans with ‘Barmy Army’ inscribed on their shirts, as they prepared to travel in droves to Bloemfontein city for the big game. Some went by luxury bus, some via trains, others decided to fly.

What a shock for the English in Bloemfontein city as their team crashed 4-1 to the German side that had too much youthful zest and fizz! How well I remember the utter dejection of the English fans around the stadium after the game ended; even those at the nearby Tourist Centre had disbelief and shock etched on their faces.

The Free State Stadium is also the famed home for the Free State Cheetahs, a powerful Rugby outfit that has used the Stadium for years; before football got in on the act. In the Macufe Cup, Bloemfontein Celtic won the game against Chiefs, thanks to penalties!