Generation Y

My daughter recently brought to my attention an article entitled “Why Generation Y is unhappy”. The hard hitting, yet humorous piece, tells the story of Lucy, a member of Generation Y.

Who is Generation Y? They are children born in the late 1970s to mid-1990s. Defined as a group of youth who, not only know that they are special, but who are, in fact, the main protagonists of their own very special story of life. It is assumed that being the central character of their own special story, Generation Y is a happy lot. Wrong, they are not. This is worked out by the following very simple formula:

Happiness  =  Reality  –  Expectations

               (Equals )             (Minus)

Interpretation: when the reality of someone’s life is better than they had expected, they are happy. When reality turns out to be worse than the expectations, they are unhappy.

According to the article, the context to this unhappiness has its roots in the following explanation.

Generation Y are children of the Baby Boomers born in the 1950s (and later!!) to Lucy’s grandparents who had experienced the Great Depression and World War II (to put it in context, the effects of World War II was a shared experience in Africa. Colonialism was another). These collective experiences made Lucy’s grandparents obsessed with economic security. They therefore raised Lucy’s parents to build practical secure careers like banking, law, teaching and medicine. The virtue of hard work was drilled into them.

Hard work with time =  success

                             (equaled)

Lucy’s parents followed the script and true to their parents word, the world beckoned.  As the 70s, 80s and 90s rolled along, the world entered a time of unprecedented economic prosperity. Lucy’s parents did even better than they expected which left them feeling gratified and optimistic. With a smoother, more positive life experience than that of their own parents, Lucy’s parents raised Lucy with a sense of optimism and unbounded possibility. This was a universal phenomenon. Baby Boomers in the West, the East and Africa told their Generation Y children, they could be whatever they wanted to be. As they did this, they instilled the special protagonist identity deep within their children.

To be clear, the article points out, Generation Y want economic prosperity just like their parents do but something else is happening too. There is a second message Lucy has been given and that is you are special. She has been told this repeatedly. And to what effect? The message has made  Generation Y delusional. They believe that they and they alone are unusually wonderful. This feeling of being unusually wonderful lends itself to feelings of entitlement. Could this explain the attitude of our youth today? Thrown into this general confusion, it would appear that somewhere along the line, even Baby Boomer parents have bought into the narrative that, because they have worked so hard, the world owes both them and their children.

However, what Baby Boomers know and should, as a matter of urgency, inculcate in their little bundles of joy, is that the world is not an easy place to be and the weird thing about life and careers, is that, they are actually quite hard. Therefore, while we wildly celebrate our babies admissions into celebrated disciplines like law, engineering, medicine and the like, we must continually remind them that it will take years of blood, sweat and tears to build to levels of success. It will not happen over-night.

The article ends with three valuable pieces of advice to Generation Y:

Do not shy away from ambition. Remain wildly ambitious. Just remember the specific direction may be unclear but it will work itself out.

Stop thinking that you are special – the fact is right now, you are not. You are just another completely inexperienced young person who doesn’t have that much to offer yet. You can become special by working really hard for a long time.

Ignore everyone else. The phrase about other people’s grass being greener is not a new one but in today’s “instagrammic” imaging world, other people’s grass looks like a glorious meadow.  The truth is that everyone else is just as indecisive, self-doubting and frustrated as you are, and if you just do your thing, you will never have reason to envy others.

Lastly, to Generation Y, on behalf of all the Baby Boomer parents, I apologise for the role we have played in creating a delusional world for you. In our defence, we wanted the best for you. Now you know, if you didn’t already, even we get it wrong.

Rory Kilalea's Mea Culpa: Politics or The Ordinary?

I confess to almighty God
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have greatly sinned,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,
through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault;
therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
all the Angels and Saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God

There exists within literary circles, debate on whether literature from Southern Africa has been unduly saturated by politics. Rory Kilalea’s short story, Mea Culpa, presents a framework in which to engage in this discourse. Kilalea who is of Irish ancestry was born and raised in Zimbabwe.  He is a writer and filmmaker.  His short stories have twice been nominated for the Caine prize.

Mea Culpa is a story told in the third person narrative voice of Luke, a twenty-something, white, first year university student in the former colony of Rhodesia (present day Zimbabwe). Luke is battling with his sexuality, racism, religion and patriarchy. Ironically, his father is the one who initiates him into a world of confused sexuality. Luke’s father not only sexually assaults Luke he is also physically abusive towards his mother.  In Luke’s first year at university, he has a sexual encounter with an older black friend named Munya. The aftermath of the act prompts flashbacks to events that preceded that night with Munya.

The action in Mea Culpa shifts between the physical domain of Luke’s university room, which is the primary scene, to mental scenes (flashbacks) where the reader gets intimately acquainted with Luke’s internal struggles. The flashbacks offer an insight into his background and events that marked and defined his formative years.

Mea Culpa is a Latin phrase meaning “through my fault”. It is an acknowledgement of having done wrong. The phrase comes from a prayer of confession of sinfulness intoned by Roman Catholics at the beginning of mass or when receiving the sacrament of atonement. The expression is also used as an admission of having made a mistake that should have been avoided.

Writers make deliberate choices in the selection of words and phrases they use in their stories. By choosing Mea Culpa as the title, Kilalea possibly uses the phrase as a ruse for readers to reach for the story with the preconception that they are about to delve into the world of religion and confession while in actual fact the story is an unexpected revelation on two major levels; levels referred to here as the ordinary and the political.

The ordinary:  there is general agreement that Southern African literature has been saturated by politics. South African academic and literary scholar, Njabulo Ndebele, in a paper entitled “The Rediscovery of the Ordinary: Some New Writings in South Africa”, notes that South African literature “has largely been the history of the representation of spectacle”. In other words, Southern African literature by nature seems to be defined and characterized by features of the dramatic. Images come to mind of mass shootings and killings witnessed in Sharpeville in 1960, the mass removals of people, detention, separation, and the economic exploitation of the black community- the ultimate symbol of which was and still is to a degree, the mining industry. These features are all spectacular.  They evoke feelings of indignation, injustice. Other scholars have referred to Southern African literature as, by and large, Protest literature; its form and content being a remonstration against political injustices.

Taking cognizance of Ndebele’s views therefore, where does Kilalea’s Mea Culpa fall: is it Protest Literature or an exposition of everyday concerns encountered by people in society black and white alike?

On one level, it can be said that Kilalea’s concern centres on the morality or otherwise of sexuality from the point of view of religion. There is an interesting use of biblical allusion captured simultaneously in the title and theme which serve to highlight the need for a spiritual centre. Tied in with biblical allusion is the hypocrisy often found in religion.  Luke’s father’s actions provide a basis for this. He sexually abuses his son after which he (the father) takes Luke for confession. The priest who takes Luke’s confession appears to derive a perverse pleasure in coercing Luke to confess to the sin of masturbation. Even good old Reverend Dube who preaches liberation theology is revealed by Munya to be a person who “loves men too” and not in the sense that Jesus was a fisher of men!

On another level, same sex relationships are interrogated on a moral level; in the context of society and society’s reaction to it.  There is, of course, the view and reaction of society to same sex relationships in Africa and more specifically in the milieu of this short story set in Zimbabwe, where the President has likened homosexuals to being no better than dogs and pigs. Is the President’s abhorrence for homosexuals a political or moral stand?

On the personal front Luke battles with intense guilt over his sexuality. In a particularly poignant flashback Luke is in the confession box before his priest. The priest is hounding him to confess to the sin of masturbation. The priest’s persistence causes Luke to reflect on two events that drive his guilt.  One; when he remembers he experienced “surges of joy when the lights were out…….the rush of awful blood to sinful places, to places that were more exciting and warm in the dark” and two; his constant worry about what people would think if they knew he was homosexual. The feeling of guilt that Luke experiences in trying to understand his sexuality is akin to what other people, the world over, struggle with irrespective of their race.

Njabulo Ndebele argues that when literature takes a dramatic stance, very little effort is taken to understand the motives for specific actions – with the dramatic; it is either that people are very good or very bad. What pushed Luke towards homosexuality? Munya, the black man Luke had intimate relations with, tells Luke that the act they had committed was not sanctioned in their culture. He says gay men are called “ngotshane” in their local dialect. The fact that Munya says there is a word for gay in an indigenous dialect, is indicative that homosexuality is not exactly an alien or western concept to indigenous peoples. Does this make same sex relationships ordinary or political phenomenon?

Placing homosexuality on the back burner for a while and referring back to Ndebele’s argument on the ordinary. Mea Culpa tells a story of abuse: the incestuous abuse of Luke by his father and the physical battery of his mother at the hands of his father. The abuse occurs in a dysfunctional white family. Worthy of note is that domestic abuse is not unique to a particular race, it cuts across racial lines.  Further, it is generally recognised that the abused partner will often try to cover up evidence of abuse by presenting to other family members and society at large the image of normalcy.  Luke recalls times he had seen his mother with a blue bruised eye following a run in with his father; however; not once did she apportion blame on her husband rather, she praised him, terming him a romantic and the only man for her.  

The Political - conversely, Mea Culpa can be interpreted within the political and historical context of Zimbabwe’s colonial past under British rule especially during the reign of Ian Smith, the fight for independence and later post-colonialism under the rule of Robert Mugabe. 

It has been posited that literature emerging from Zimbabwe is of a comparatively more sophisticated nature in relation to nuance and language. Therefore, while Mea Culpa may be classified as protest literature, the language and style is subtle in its allusion to politics.  Parallels can, for instance, be drawn between the title, Mea Culpa  and its religious connotations with the prayer of penitence and the formation of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa which presented the oppressor with a platform to confess or seek absolution, as it where, for transgressions committed under white rule. Similarly in Zimbabwe the land reclamation programme introduced after independence has been justified on the grounds of reparation for wrongs against the black population pre self-rule. How genuine were these initiatives in redeeming wrongs; were they for selfish political gain? How sincere is the prayer of penance?

With regard to language, Luke vividly describes the contrast of his body against Munya’s thus “bodies of different colours……the brown-pink of Munya’s skin not touched by the sun, the blue-pink of his. The blue-black of Munya’s lips, the grey pink of his, the blue eyes, the brown eyes…….” This detail to colour is symbolic of how conscious one is of the colour divide in colonial Rhodesia.  While the obvious focus is on sexuality, the political stance may be lost to the less astute reader.

There is no doubt that Luke suffers immense inner turmoil over his sexuality, in the same breath however, he displays greater concern over the fact that he had had intimate relations with a black man. He cannot contemplate the horror that those close to him would experience if they knew what had happened between a white and black man.  He did not want anyone knowing that a black man had slept in his room. He was desperate that it should remain hidden.

The reader encounters both the demoralizing subjugation of the black man and the role of patriarchy in the story.  The portrayal of Luke’s father as a tyrant is symbolic of the white and black political divide in the former Rhodesia where the white man asserted tyrannical authority to subdue the black man.  The black man’s subjugation is captured in one of Luke’s flashbacks. His father lashes a young black man for uprooting flowers from Luke’s mother’s garden. When he was done lashing the boy, the boy turns to Luke’s father and says “Thank you, Baas”. The exact same scenario plays itself out towards the end of the story when roles are reversed and it is Luke who is in a position of dominance over the black man when he beats Munya.  Like the boy, when the lashing is done, Munya turns to Luke and says “Thank you, Baas”.

Luke struggles with his identity as a white man in a country where colour determines one place in society. His association with the black man Munya is testament to this. Munya introduces him to the black township where Reverend Dube talks about liberation theology and urges Luke join the struggle.  Dube assures Luke that he understands the struggle and dilemma that white students go through in trying to justify their position in a black country. 

Rory Kilalea’s biography stimulates interrogation.  First, his place as a white writer born and raised in Zimbabwe presents an interesting perspective to the political and/or other dimension of Southern African literature. Does his colour influence an African readers mind because he is a white man writing about a same sex relationship? Is there credence to the assumption that the concept of homosexuality is associated with western decadence and yet, contentious though it is, there is evidence that suggests homosexuality was practiced in Africa even before the coming of the white man?  Following their night of passion, Munya “jokingly” tells Luke that if he (Munya) was a freedom fighter, he could very easily turn around and claim that Luke was trying to ruin the morals of a black man. Munya’s “joke” has echoes of what African leaders claim when seeking to demonstrate how the West corrupts African values. Paradoxically as Munya teases Luke, he appears to have lost sight of his earlier statement to Luke regarding Reverend Dube liking other men.

Second, why has Kilalea taken the African sounding pen name of Murungu? Is it a bait to lure people into thinking he is black? As a white writer in Southern Africa does his whiteness expose him to political and social disadvantage? Is his writing to be viewed as being part of the oppressive machinery of apartheid in Zimbabwe or is evidence required that he participated in some way in Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle for critiques to take both the quality and concerns of his work seriously?

Mea Culpa being a short story is probably an inadequate basis to extensively examine the subject of protest literature from Southern Africa. It is, however, precisely because it is a short story that Kilalea is compelled to advance his themes in a more forceful way. Further, it is illustrative of Zimbabwean literature being a form of Southern African literature that is not blatant.  Kilalea does not make an overt reference to politics instead references to politics are couched in language about struggles of a seemingly personal nature.

Njabulo Ndebele  observes that in talking of a new society (post-apartheid/colonial society)  direct concern should be on “a range of complex ethical issues involving man-man, woman-woman, man-nature, man-society relationships”. He argues that these concerns are destined to find their way into our literature thereby making it more complex and richer. Kilalea’s Mea Culpa in many ways departs from the norm of what is categorized as strictly Protest Literature, however, in subtle ways there is no denying that the story is weighed down with the conflict between white and black. It is also true that the legacy of the past has a strong bearing on the present thereby limiting how far writers can go in divorcing their narratives from the past which has influenced the ordinary in the present.

The Stalker

There is something deeply unsettling about The Stalker aka The Grim Reaper.

Stalker shadows our every move. Stalker knows us intimately. Sadly, it’s a one sided relationship tilted in The Grim Reaper’s favour, unless, of course, we consciously seek The Reaper out by purposely submitting to his deceptive embrace. How many leave their abode in the morning with every intention of returning at dusk for the evening meal? As those plans are consciously or subconsciously formulated, Stalker in the background rubs his hands with glee in the knowledge that, that morning will be the last one will walk through the front door; let alone eat an evening meal.  You see, Stalker plans to strike with his vicious, savage grip.

It is said that people of faith are emboldened by the knowledge that death is but a stepping stone to life ever-lasting.  Be that as it may, it is not uncommon even for them, to falter when the Grim Reaper’s tentacles snap out to grasp one of their own.  Particularly when those tentacles entrap and snare in one who is still so vibrant.  One so full of promise for tomorrow.  One loved more than life itself.

Life in its mercy has a way of ensuring that upon the immediate demise of a dear one, there are others close by to provide comfort. To hold your hand. To ease the pain. It helps somewhat. As plans for the final send-off progress, there is a solace of sorts to be derived from the fact you can still do things for your departed one.  There are clothes to be purchased. There is their grooming to be attended to. (Truth be told, why these things should be done does, in a way, defy logic). You go through the motions until the hour you finally have to face the inevitable. You have to let go. From the corner of your eye, your line of vision picks up a freshly dug hole; sitting vacant, waiting to receive. In due course, the casket obliges and is lowered in to this six-foot-deep hungry hole. The finality of what the Stalker has done to your life washes over you when you hear the thud of the soil on the casket. THUD! Scrape for soil! THUD! Scrape for soil! THUD! You want to block your ears. You want to scream. You want to retrieve your loved one from that box. You worry that they will suffocate in that contraption.  You experience a jumble of thoughts.  Your breath gets stifled. Then it’s done. The shoveling of soil stops. It’s over. Taking that first step away from the site is brutally hard. It feels like you are turning your back on your treasured one. Should it be raining you worry they will get wet. They will get cold. They will get sick. They will be scared and lonely.

Left alone with your thoughts, you try to rationalize that, after a protracted illness at last they rest; free from pain. Alas, why did they have to suffer in the first place? If it was a freak accident, why? Why? Why? Why?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

Concepts of Realism in Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina

Written by the Russian author, Leo Tolstoy, the novel Anna Karenina was, in 2007, voted the greatest novel of all time in a Time Magazine poll.  Leo Tolstoy who was born in 1828 in the Russian Province of Tula, wrote Anna Karenina, his second novel, over a period of four years - 1873 to 1877.  His first works was the critically acclaimed War and Peace published in 1869. Tolstoy regarded War and Peace as more of an epic than a novel. The reason why he may have considered War and Peace an epic rests on the fact that it was set against the background of authentic history; that of Napoleon Bonaparte’s expansionist  drive in Europe, his invasion of Russia and his subsequent defeat and retreat.  On the other hand, Tolstoy considered Anna Karenina “his first true novel”.  In distinguishing between the themes in War and Peace and Anna Karenina, Tolstoy is quoted as saying that while War and Peace revolved around the “nation”, Anna Karenina focused on the “family”. The first lines in both these pieces of work indeed attest to this.  The first line in War and Peace begins thus “Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Bonaparte’s” (Napoleon’s family name); while Anna Karenina starts with the famous sentence “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”.  Leo Tolstoy died in 1910 having penned ninety volumes of both fiction and non-fiction in the form of books, essays, articles and pamphlets, among them, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Resurrection and a short fiction story entitled Family Happiness.

In literary terms, Anna Karenina is an eponymous novel. In other words, the title of the book is also the name of the lead protagonist: Anna Karenina. The book set in Russia in the late 1870’s, when Russia was ruled by Tsars, tells the story of the bewitchinglinly attractive and enigmatic Anna, the wife of a senior civil servant in the Russian government, Alexandrovich Karenin (Alexi) and mother to their son, Sergei Alexeich Karenin. Together, the Karenins live in St. Petersburg. As mentioned above, the novel begins with the celebrated sentence “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”” and undeniably the reader is immediately propelled into an unhappy family circumstance. Anna’s brother, Prince Stepan Oblonsky (nicknamed Stiva) awakens in Moscow one morning in a state of angst. His wife Dolly had made the discovery that he was engaged in a liaison with their children’s governess as a result of which Dolly is threatening to leave him.  Stiva sends for his sister Anna in the hope that she will be able to calm Dolly down and save the marriage. On the train to Moscow, Anna shares a carriage with Countess Vronsky, the mother of Count Alexi Vronsky. Anna meets Count Vronsky on arrival at the train station where he has come to receive his mother. The Count is immediately taken by the beautiful Anna. Be that as it may however, at this point in the story, Vronsky and a wealthy rural landowner, Constantine Levin Dmitrich are both suitors for Stiva’s sister in law called Kitty Shcherbatskaya. Levin proposes marriage of Kitty, but she turns him down, as she is expecting a proposal from Vronsky.  However, whereas Vronsky finds Kitty’s interest in him exciting, the idea of marriage does not cross his mind. At a ball, Vronksky openly flirts and dances with Anna, leaving Kitty distraught.

On her way back to her family in St. Petersburg, Anna increasingly realizes that she is attracted to Vronsky, who par chance, also happens to be on the same train that Anna is travelling back on.  Upon arriving home, she finds that, in comparison with Vronsky, her husband is oddly repulsive. It dawns on her that he has extremely ugly ears and that his mien is cold and imposing. Even her son whom she adores seems to fall short of her ideal perception of him.

Vronsky visits St. Petersburg more frequently with the aim of entering into a relationship with Anna and although at first she rejects him, she eventually succumbs to his advances. When it comes to Karenin’s attention that Anna has an unconventional relationship with Vronsky he warns her that her behavior is giving rise to gossip in public which is injurious to their marriage, his person and his standing in society. He asks her to desist from the relationship.  She pays no heed to his request.

With time Anna becomes pregnant with Vronsky’s child. Karenin contemplates a divorce and threatens to take legal custody of their son if Anna’s illicit relationship continues. During the delivery of Anna’s daughter, Anna almost dies.  Caught up in the emotion of the moment, Karenin forgives Vronksy, following which the latter, overcome with remorse, attempts suicide. The attempt does not succeed. Although Vronsky does seriously injure himself;he lives. 

When Anna recovers from her near death experience, she leaves Karenin and her son to live with Vronsky in Europe.  They soon become dissatisfied with life abroad and decide to return to Russia where, due to the irregular status of their relationship, many of their old friends give them the cold shoulder.  They leave urban high society and opt to settle down together on Vronsky’s country estate.  By this time, Anna is approaching a mental breakdown; she grows more and more jealous of Vronsky and the apparent freedom he continues to enjoy vis-à-vis her virtual exclusion from society.  She writes to Karenin pleading for a divorce in order to regularize her status; Karenin refuses largely on the advice of his friend Countess Lidia and on the word of a French “psychic” called Landau.  The increasing strain and distress on Anna compel her to constantly argue with Vronsky.  She is tormented over the state of her status and the separation from her son. When things become unbearable for her, Anna commits suicide by throwing herself under a train.

Running parallel to Anna’s life is the narrative of her co-protagonist Levin, who having been initially rejected by Kitty, retreats to the country where he concentrates his energies on farming. On a second attempt he wins over Kitty. They have a wedding. In due course they become parents to a baby boy.  As he goes through various stages in his life, Levin endeavours to comprehend the significance of the forces of nature and the true purpose of man’s life.  By the end of the novel we encounter a man who has come to terms with the imperfections and contradictions he contends with in his life.

Tolstoy has been called a master of realism. The novel Anna Karenina is not just a masterpiece but a study of realism at its finest.  What, then, is realism? Realism was an artistic movement that began in France in the late 19^th century.  Artists and writers sought to demonstrate and present detailed realistic and factual description in their works.   This was contrary to movements such as, for example, idealism whose approach to the writing of literature depicted everything in an ideal form.  Idealism presented, for example, perfect societies where conflict would always be resolved amicably.  Realism, on the other hand, emphasised fidelity to common, average everyday life. It focused on the reality of the immediate - the here and now. It concentrated on specific actions whose consequences had to, of necessity, be able to demonstrate a correspondence to real life. Most intriguing about works of realism and particularly with reference to Anna Karenina, is the ability of the astute reader to discern a co-relation with real life experiences, be they in 19^th century Russia or in today’s “global village”.

As mentioned above, insistence on the experience of the common place, that is, day to day humdrum experiences and interactions in society, is a characteristic of realism. “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” this first sentence of Anna Karenina is a statement on the universal commonality of families, be they in a royal palace in Belgium, Eskimos in Greenland or the San of Southern Africa.  No matter the nature of the society, families are its pillar; its foundation – an everyday reality.  In Anna Karenina, the narrative on practically all the families therein, focuses on upper middle class families who, ideally, should be living a life sans hardship or unhappiness (Russian society in the late 19^th century was inflexibly hierarchical with an established class system that guided social and economic order). Idyllic though the assumption of a trouble-free life may have been, however, the reality of life was that every single one of those families had challenges they confronted that occasioned unhappiness. There is the obvious conflict between Stiva and Dolly that is encountered at the start of the novel. This conflict results from an extra marital liaison Stiva engaged in. As the story progresses, however, we learn that they also have financial difficulties which, naturally, cause distress.  Stiva’s apparent refusal to assume responsibility as the head of the home compounds their general state of unhappiness. Anna Karenina on her part, is the envy of society due to, not only her beauty, but also her privileged social position as a result of her husband’s position in government, yet she is not content and seeks fulfillment in Vronsky, which fulfillment brings untold sorrow to so many. In the character of the co-protagonist Levin, we see between him and his brothers a somewhat fragile relationship that creates unhappiness between them. The fact that they have inherited vast wealth has not brought them guaranteed contentment. Levin’s brother, Nikolai, eventually dies in pitiful circumstances.

On another level, realism fervently upholds morality. Morality is, more often than not, intrinsic. It is woven into the fabric of society and is, therefore, taken as a matter of course. Sociologists refer to morality as a norm; an informal understanding that governs one’s behavior in society thereby dictating how we should live.  Morality is held up to scrutiny most clearly in the Karenin’s marriage. Anna, who has long been regarded as virtuous and possessing high social standing, loses this status when she not only falls in love with Vronsky, but forsakes her marriage and child to be with him. This, society dictates, is simply not done.  It (society) hits back viciously and closes ranks in shutting its doors to her presence. Curiously, however, Anna’s brother Stiva who has a reputation for sampling pleasures outside his marriage (though admittedly not on such a drastic scale; assuming morality can be measured) is tolerated as are, indeed, other women in the novel who have adulterous liaisons but do not desert their matrimonial homes. It is left to characters like Stiva’s wife, Dolly, to suffer the humiliation of his immorality.  Similarly, Vronsky is free to continue enjoying society. Vronsky insightfully recognizes this irony of society. He muses that, although society would open its ranks to him personally, they would remain closed to Anna (page 483). Anna is therefore largely left cooped up in his house. Her interactions in society are severely limited.   Additionally, Vronsky’s elder brother, Alexander Kirillovich, who we learn has always respected  his younger brother’s opinion, generally had no judgment on his brothers arrangement with Anna and agreed to visit her for so long as society, in his opinion, had not settled whether it was right or wrong.  Society’s response to morality or otherwise is hypocritical; on the one hand, it condemns what it labels immorality, while on the other, it seems to suggest that if an act of immorality is kept under wraps then it is permissible. This held true then just as it does today. The question of morality could very well be the reason that the novel starts with the epigraph “Vengeance is mine, and I will repay”. Tolstoy was possibly questioning what right man has to judge others when ultimately judgment rests with a higher deity.

Realism is concerned with the effect a specific work has on its reader and the reader’s life. Does the reader derive any pragmatic lessons from reading Anna Karenina?  Pragmatism requires the reading of a work to have some demonstrable outcome for the reader that will lead to a better life for them.  In the character of Levin, we encounter a man who is in constant battle with himself and his convictions.  His life is symptomatic of the internal struggles men and women confront as they go through life.  By walking with Levin through his ups and downs; one learns to be gentler on themselves in the sense that self-doubt, lack of conviction or indecision are not indicators of dysfunction or failure but rather an acknowledgement of the frailty of man.

When Vronsky succeeds in “winning” Anna, he soon realizes that although he felt a certain fulfillment, that same fulfillment served to show him “the constant mistake people make when they imagine that happiness lies in the fulfillment of desires”. This moment of truth for Vronsky rings true for Levin during the early period of his marriage to Kitty. Having desired her hand in marriage so desperately, upon its passing, Levin soon observes that all his thoughts about marriage and his dreams about how he would arrange his life had been childish. Although he was happy, it was not at all in the way he had expected. Levin gives an interesting analogy of marriage being like a man who had long admired the smooth sailing of a boat on a lake only to later find himself sitting in the same boat. As the occupant of the boat, it becomes apparent that he cannot just sit in it without rocking it – he needs to be constantly on the look-out for the course he is steering the boat otherwise the boat will sink.  In other words, it requires work to keep the boat on course.  Likewise while it was easy for Levin in the past, to watch other people’s marriages and be contemptuous of their failings; one’s own marriage required work which, although pleasant, was also fraught with difficulty.

Another source of disappointment for Levin was the quarrels that occurred in his marriage. In his idyllic mind he never imagined the relationship between his wife and he could be anything but, as he puts it, “tenderness, respect and love”. However, one day early in the marriage, he got held up on the farm attending to a matter that required his attention.   On its successful completion, he rode home thinking very fondly of only Kitty and looking forward to being with her.  On arrival back at the house, he quickly sought her out.  As soon as he found her he rushed up to embrace her.  Lo and behold, when he tried to kiss her she pushed him aside. When he attempted to explain the reason for his lateness all manner of words of reproach tumbled out of Kitty’s mouth; words of “senseless” jealousy that her mind had fed her as she waited for him. It was only then that he clearly realized for the first time something which he had not appreciated when he led her out of the church after their wedding.  He realized that not only was she close to him, but paradoxically at the same time, he now no longer knew where she ended and he began and therefore seeing that they were one, he could not conceivably hurt her as he would be hurting himself.  Notwithstanding that realization however, subsequent clashes occurred with regularity due to the fact that each, had not, as yet understood what was important to them.

When their son was born, Levin’s feelings for the “little creature”, as he put it, were not at all what he had expected.  His feelings were neither happy nor bright; on the contrary, what he experienced was a new, agonizing fear; a fear of vulnerability.  Levin worried at the enormous responsibility he had towards this little baby and worried that he may not be able to ensure the baby would not suffer. So strong was the fear that it obscured whatever feeling of joy and even pride he experienced when the baby had sneezed at birth. He explains to Kitty later that, although he had been disappointed when his son was born; it was not a disappointment with the child itself, but, more a disappointment in himself (Levin) as he had expected a more invigorating emotion to ignite within but instead he just felt disgust and pity. 

Levin muses on the futility of arguing.  It occurs to him that whenever he is engaged in an argument or discussion, in the middle of it, he realises that the position his opponent has taken is actually the position he should have taken himself, thus making the whole purpose of the argument meaningless. How often does this happen in social interactions? Often, but rather than acknowledge the realization, pride gets in the way and one ploughs on with the argument; often times becoming increasingly agitated. 

Religion preoccupies Levin considerably. As he prepares for marriage,  Stiva informs him he has to undergo communion before the Church can agree to solemnize his marriage.  This sets Levin back because his attitude and position in relation to religion was rather vague. He did not exactly believe in it and yet at the same time he was not firmly convinced that it was all meaningless. He felt that religion could be hypocritical. He wondered how, if the main proof of God’s existence was the revelation that the good exists, then why should such revelation be limited to Christians alone. Did this revelation not affect Buddhists and Muslims who also preached and did good? By the end of the novel, however, he appears to have reconciled his thinking on religion.  He acknowledges the importance of Christianity and opines that the problem of other faiths and their relationship to the Deity are not within his ambit to decide.

Following intense soul searching, Levin concludes he must acknowledge his frailties and determines to live his life on the understanding that he would continue to lose his temper with his coachman, continue to argue, continue to express his ideas out of turn; the wall between the holy of hollies of his soul and others will continue to stand, he will even continue to blame his wife for his own fear and will repent afterwards, he will continue to fail to understand why he should pray but shall nonetheless continue to pray. He will continue to do all this, because, as meaningless as they may all appear to him, he knows there is an unquestionable meaning of goodness in life which is in his power to invest in. And therein, in Levin’s last observation, lies the key to all men and women’s strivings.

It seems apt to conclude that, Anna Karenina is not simply romantic novel, it realistically interprets the practicalities of life, free from subjective prejudice, idealism or romantic colour. It treats the commonplace truthfully and uses characters from everyday life with whom a reader can identify with and learn from.  

Conversation as an Art, or Not

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine directed me to an internet link that featured an article written in the Economist Magazine, entitled The Art of Conversation: Chattering Classes.

The article, written in 2006, touches on the subject of conversation, which has gnawed at my mind considerably for a while now. It gave me the framework, so to speak, to develop my thoughts on the matter.

Is conversation an art? There are many definitions of the word art. In the context of conversation, art is, to me, an activity carried out by people with an aesthetic or communicative purpose. Art expresses an idea and/or emotion. I doubt that many people, especially the ones I have had the fortune to interact with over the years, consider conversation as possessing any aesthetic quality; other than, possibly, for romantic and seduction purposes.  It seems to me they regard conversation primarily as a means by which their needs are aired and acted upon; never mind that it involves mutual reciprocity. Mutual interchange.

Interestingly, the aforementioned article pays tribute to the Roman philosopher, politician and lawyer Marcus Cicero, for outlining the rules that guide the conduct of conversation. That such a tribute is accorded Cicero was a revelation to me, for, my introduction to the philosopher was in a political theory class. What had struck me then, was that Cicero had a philosophy that was based on the principle that the status of the world’s success is dependant on how people act in order to make the world a better place.  At the time I did not realize that this philosophy was tied up with a book he wrote in 44BC entitled “On Duties” (incidentally 44BC was the year Cicero was assassinated, so much for people acting to make the world a better place.) In “On Duties” Cicero laid down rules for ordinary conversation as follows:

Speak clearly 

Many are the times, I have become irritated when I do not get a response to a comment I have made, only for close acquaintances or family to tell me I often mumble.  Paradoxically, I am a motivational speaker and the response to my talks is, by and large, overwhelmingly positive. Could it be those closest to me chose not to hear me?

Speak easily but not too much, especially when others want their turn

Is this not a crime many are guilty of? It becomes obvious at some point that those we engage with in conversation, would also appreciate a turn to voice their thoughts, however, we chose to be oblivious to this fact and instead rumble on and on thus denying them their turn.

Do not interrupt, be courteous

You talk, but alas, you cannot complete your sentence, the person with whom you speak decides to interject.  Courtesy has no place in their lives; they will interrupt because they believe there is an urgency for their own opinion to be voiced. After all, is said opinion not more valuable than yours, they reason?

Deal seriously with serious matters and gracefully with lighter ones

How often does one bring a grave concern to the table only for the other party to treat the issue impolitely?  It is frustrating. The reverse being when lighter matters are raised, grace flies out the window together with a sense of humour.

Never criticize others behind their backs

Sadly, I am guilty of this.    Cicero gives me food for thought. If I feel ever so sanctimonious engaging in this kind of conversation, which certainly is not aesthetic, surely, should I not have the courage to voice such criticism to a person’s face? That way, we will both be engaged in growth.

Do not talk about yourself

Why is it that people find it imperative that the topic of conversation should revolve solely around them?

Above all never lose your temper

Yes, Cicero I am guilty there too!  In my defence, I am a works in progress.  It is getting better.

According to the article, centuries after Cicero laid down rules to conversation; the American teacher of Public Speaking, Dale Carnegie, added four rules to the Cicero's as follows:

Remember a person’s name

How annoying is it for someone to continually ask you in conversation “what was your name again”. What is interesting about this, is that, when someone wants something from you, they will never forget your name.  Is this not just rudeness with a generous portion of self-absorption thrown in for good measure?

Be a good listener

There are times when one can plainly see the person they are talking with has their brain engaged in something other than what is being communicated to them.  It kills conversation and indeed the communication process.

Over the course of the last five years or so, I, together with others no doubt,  have increasingly felt that modern technology, specifically the mobile phone and internet, act as a distraction that play a key role in the killing of the art of conversation. If you take a moment to observe people out on a date today, be it friends, a courting couple, husband and wife, parents and children; one, both or all members of the interacting alliance will be glued to their mobile phones or a laptop. However, thanks to the Economist I learnt that way back with the introduction of the radio and television, it was thought then, that they too would kill the art of conversation. They did not.

Rather, the Economist article notes that “conversation has survived worse challenges and it will doubtless survive more.”  It argues that evidence that conversation thrives still, will be found if one were to go into any smart New York restaurant, where the noise level will be deafening.  I have to agree, because even in my part of my woods, if one goes into any social gathering the noise levels are, indeed, at deafening decibels. So, maybe there is truth in the observation that modern technology will not ultimately kill the art of conversation.

The Economist article aptly concludes by borrowing from Carnegie who observed “making friends and influencing people, amount in the end to much the same thing, both of them require charm, courtesy and the desire to understand the ideas and opinions of others”. 

So that, whatever the strategic objective, those can never be bad tactics, can they?

Therein lays the art.

The Colour Black on a White Palette

It had been a long day for Omuchendi. The day had started at a job centre in one of this Western country’s cold, impersonal cities. It was there that he had been referred to four potential employers.  Sadly, all the interviews yielded naught.  He was told he was either under or over qualified. His spirits were low.  All he yearned for now was the warmth of the flat he shared with his three cousins.  As he walked into the foyer of the block that housed their flat, the doors to the lift were closing, prompting him to quicken his pace.  Thankfully, he made the lift with a nanosecond to spare. Already in the old creaky lift was a Caucasian female of indeterminate age.  She had watched Omuchendi rush to beat the closing lift doors and had mouthed a silent prayer that he wouldn’t make it.  Make it he did though.  She instinctively held her handbag closer to her body and shifted ever so subtly to the furthest corner of the small lift. Fortunately for her, she gets to her floor safely without any incident. No mugging, no assault, verbal or otherwise from this black man she is forced to share her ride with. She is safe.

The black man, Omuchendi, gets to his apartment safely too. He walks in to find his cousins in the midst of making plans for a night out on the town.  They excitedly invite him to join them on the night’s revelry.  Being that his spirits are low and the fact that he is also tired and broke, Omuchendi does not feel much like joining them.  However, they cajole him until he eventually relents. It is also not lost to him that going out will provide a brief respite from his troubles, albeit, for a few hours.  The most compelling factor however, has everything to do with the fact that one of his cousins had, that day, won a sizeable amount of money in a weekly lottery and was itching to splash his good fortune on celebration. That meant free drinks and food.  This was an offer Omuchendi could not realistically turn down. Thus, with merry spirits and sprightly steps, the four young African men headed out to explore and sample the City’s night delights.

What a night the young men had. They partied and club hopped to their hearts absolute content. Towards 5:30 in the morning, the happily sated gentlemen called it a day.   It was time to find their way home.   Because it was winter, it was still very dark and cold outside. Fortunately for the four however, the merry making of the night and their somewhat inebriated states had invigorated their spirits; therefore, neither the dark nor the cold causes them any fear. They decide to walk back to their apartment block which is but a ten minute walk from the City Centre. As they walk down a side path, they notice a group of Caucasian men in their mid-twenties positioned on both sides of the pathway. Odd though the hour was, the group appeared comfortable standing in the cold from whence they taunted and threw insults at other night wanderers finding their way home. They did the same to early risers using the route on their way to work. As Omuchedi and cousins drew closer, the young Caucasians fell silent.  In return, probably out of some survival instinct, Omuchendi & cousins brace themselves for battle. However, when they are almost in the centre of the man-made “Caucasian” corridor, one of the white men says “don’t touch them guys; they’ll whip our behinds. Them folk are used to bush wars”.  And with that proclamation, Omuchendi and cousins are apparently granted safe passage back to their flat. No taunts flew. No bust up occurred.

Omuchendi had barely caught any shut eye when his old friend Wakili woke him from deep slumber.  Wakili has come by the flat to pick Omuchendi up for yet another job interview that Wakili, through his extensive networks, has secured for him. Omuchendi envies Wakili.  They have been friends since infancy. They had grown up and gone to junior and high school together in the African village of Mumbita.  After high school, however, their lives took different paths. While Omuchendi proceeded to a local polytechnic, later finding his way into this Western country as an “economic refugee”, Wakili on the other hand, on completion of high school, had been awarded a scholarship to study law in the same Western country. He duly completed his studies, had been admitted to the bar and currently worked as an immigration lawyer.  Further, Wakili had been granted the “right to abode” in this country. He had made a success of his life in the West. To cap it all, Wakili who is a dark, handsome man who proudly wears his dread locked hair in a neat ponytail, carries himself with a confident assurance which Omuchendi often feels he, himself lacks.

After a quick shower, an equally fast grooming session and a gulp of coffee, Omuchendi is ready. The two friends set off for the interview in Wakili’s turbo charged VW Passat car. No sooner had Wakili steered the Passat on to the motorway, than they were pulled over by police officers in a patrol car. A stocky white police officer, whose name tag identifies him as Constable P.L. Fitzgerald, makes his way to their vehicle.  He asks Wakili for his driving licence. Wakili hands it over. Fitzgerald spends considerable time studying the licence before asking both Wakili and Omuchendi to step out of the car.  They both comply. He informs them that it is necessary that he searches the car. At this stage, Officer Fitzgerald is joined by his partner, Constable K.P. Roberts, who keeps an eye on the two friends as Fitzgerald commences the search. The search seemed to go on endlessly. Fitzgerald appeared to be searching for something specific.  With each minute that the search went on, Wakili got increasingly riled up. Being fully aware of his rights, he demanded to be told what was being searched for and the grounds under which the search was being conducted.  In response Fitzgerald replied that they had received a tip off that this particular Passat was ferrying an unspecified narcotics. Fitzgerald’s response was so preposterous that Wakili burst out in laughter. His laughter aggravates Constable Fitzgerald who intensifies his search efforts. A thorough search reveals nothing, causing Fitzgerald to tell Wakili he will have to run his licence through their system in the police patrol car. After about 5 minutes or so, Fitzgerald returns to the VW Passat.  His body language indicates that he is not happy. He grudgingly informs Const. Roberts who is still keeping watch over the two friends, that not only is the licence is valid, but that Wakili is legally in the country and gainfully employed as a lawyer.    He reluctantly returns the licence and advises the duo that they are free to go. As the pair turn to enter the car, they both hear Fitzgerald mutter to Roberts that he cannot understand how they didn’t have weed in their car particularly as “their” kind always have it on them. It took a while for Omuchendi and Wakili to pull away in their car. The interaction had left a bitter taste in the duo's mouths. They felt demoralised and ill-tempered. They had just been  victims of profiling. To make matters worse, Omuchendi was now running late for his interview.

Happily however, Omuchendi makes it just in time for the interview.  Sadly though, the interview proceeded from bad to worse. It was as if the earlier altercation with the police had acted as a precursor to a disastrous interview. Though the interview was conducted in English, a language in which Omuchendi was proficient, the dialect spoken in this part of the Western country, was not the standard English that Omuchendi grew up being led to believe is the Queen’s English. As a consequence, he barely understands what is being asked of him.  As happens, in such circumstances, both parties start feeling frustrated. The interviewer takes to raising her voice in the belief that that will aid comprehension.  As was wont to happen, the more agitated she became the more confused and insecure Omuchendi felt.  There was a total collapse in communication. The interview concluded dismally.

Later that night, back at the flat that Omuchendi shared with his cousins, he reflected over the state of his life in this western country.   His mind drifted back to his days in high school. He especially remembered his literature classes. He had enjoyed them immensely. He recalled his introduction to African American literature. Mr. Omuchesi was the name of his literature teacher.  He was every student’s favourite. He had a most engaging manner.  The characters in the books Omuchesi read with the class had a way of leaping off the pages and into the classroom and lives of the students.    On this cold, dark night as he lay on his bed, Omuchendi vividly remembered a book Mr. Omuchesi and the class had read and discussed extensively.  It was written by the African American scholar and activist called W.E.B. Du Bois. The book was entitled The Souls of Black Folk.  Omuchendi earnestly believed that Du Bois’ words in that book were not just about the plight of the African American during those tumultuous times in American history, but were to foreshadow the experiences of all blacks worldwide. For, had not Du Bois written that “the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the colour line?”  The challenges Omuchendi had endured since he came to this country gave credence to that fact.  He was not oblivious to the fact that much had changed since DuBois wrote his book. However, one hundred and twelve years after W.E.B Du Bois’ observation and thirty five years into the Twenty First Century, the colour line was, thought Omuchendi, as solid as ever.

He thoughts drifted back to how the Caucasian lady had reacted to his presence in the lift earlier in the week.  She probably thought he had not noticed her reaction to him but he had. His mind then flitted to the young white men that he and his cousins had encountered on their way home from their night out. He replayed the encounter his friend, the learned lawyer Wakili, had had with the police officers earlier that day. He went over his interview and the mutual frustration experienced by the interviewer and himself. He pitted all these incidents against Du Bois’ view that no matter how well the black man spoke the white man’s language, no matter how he dressed, he would always be regarded with suspicion. And, when, perchance, opportunities are offered to the black man, surprise will always be expressed when he attains and surpasses a goal.

It hit Omuchendi with startling clarity, that as black man in a white man’s country, he and many others like him, were subject to what Du Bois had termed Double Consciousness.  Double Consciousness was, according to Du Bois, a peculiar sensation where the black person always looks at themselves through the eyes of others. It’s a sensation where the black individuals soul is measured by a tape of the world that looks on at them in “amused contempt and pity” such that one always feels his two-ness, “an American, a Negro, two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings, two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder”. Surely, was Du Bois not addressing himself to Omuchendi and all black people who interact in the global village?

Omuchendi tried to be objective. He questioned whether he was on a journey of self-pity or whether his concerns were legitimate.  He believed they were legitimate.  He had, after all, Du Bois’ words to back him up.  It was he, who had the following to say on the positioning of the black man in the world, ”After the Egyptian, and Indian, The Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight  in this American world- a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation  of the other world”  Omuchendi pondered over the effect of this social prejudice on the black man. What, he asked, is it about the black skin? Black.  White.  Black.  White.  White for purity. Black for sin.  White for hope.  Black for death.  White for clarity. Black for obscurity. Would there, he wondered, ever be an unconditional acceptance of the two colours? A mixed palette?

He drifted into fitful sleep with these unanswered questions on his mind.