In his book, Keywords, Raymond Williams describes culture as “one of the two or three most complicated words in the English language”; yet I am going to have to rely on this word in my very short discussion, especially the second of the five definitions given in the Concise Oxford Dictionary (Ninth Edition): “the customs, civilization and achievements of a particular time or people”.  In my discussion I shall particularise the vague word “achievements”, first into the word “arts”, next into two names connected with the arts, both names currently in the news: Munyaradzi Chidzonga and Charles Mungoshi.

In my opinion, Charles Mungoshi is Zimbabwe’s greatest living writer.  This award-winning, internationally respected author of novels, poems, and short stories – in Shona as well as in English – is desperately ill, and almost destitute.  In cultural terms, he is one of Zimbabwe’s most precious jewels.  His voice, even in English, is quintessentially African, never pseudo-European.  He is our collective treasure.  And yet, the so-called guardians of our heritage, our culture – those in high government office – have done nothing, as far as I know, to assist Charles Mungoshi in his hour of need.

Along comes the handsome actor, Munyaradzi Chidzonga, who was outvoted in the finals of the peeping Tom television show, “Big Brother”; unfairly outvoted, according to some of our Government Ministers who watch the sordid programme on their plasma screens when they should be attending to potholes, and housing shortages, or reading Charles Mungoshi… along he comes, this born free son of the soil, trailing, not clouds of glory, but dreams of one day meeting His Excellency, the Head of State, First Secretary, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces…er… where was I?  Oh yes, this darling of ZANU PF heavyweights, bringing Zimbabwean culture to the furtive voyeurs of the African continent… what does he get?- a reception at State House where His Excellency etc, etc, shakes his hand and proffers him a cheque for an obscene amount of money.  No wonder Munyaradzi was over the moon.

None of this really has anything to do with culture.  It’s all about political opportunism and, God help us, it works.

The banning of SMS messaging in Mozambique is but one of several signs that both SMS (short message service) and the internet are changing the way media creates a national conversation in African countries, writes Russell Southwood on Pambazuka.

Read this very interesting article on the use of new media here but take note that Kubatana did not provide the MDC with an interactive voice response system for its phone in information service.

I recently attended a press conference held in Grahamstown in which the topic was the proposed Protection of Information Bill and Media tribunal. The question being addressed “is  the media under siege?” There was a panel made up of various authorities including a member of the ANC  regional executive Mabhuti Matyunza.

Many people perceive that the ANC is putting a “squeeze on the media” and the introduction of the Protection of Information Bill would enable the government to prevent corruption from being exposed.

One of the panellists convincingly argued that that the things we want to keep secret are those things we are ashamed of, not the things we are proud of. He further argued that the government are in fact our employees. They are spending our money; they are elected by us to represent us. “I hope you like your ministers cars coz you pay for them!”

Many of the panellists agreed that the Protection of Information Bill would be taking South Africa back to the apartheid era. I completely agree with this argument as the Promotion of Information Act that was implemented post apartheid was put in place to prevent government from being corrupt. It was put in place in order to prevent and expose corruption. With the introduction of this Bill it will become almost impossible to expose corruption.

Another panellist commented that what you need for a “Healthy Public Sphere” is an opinionated society. We see the importance of this when we look at Zimbabwe where many ministers are able to get away with corruption because there is no freedom of expression. Does South Africa want to head down the same road as Zimbabwe where they will live under the complete control of government?

I was shocked at the attitudes of the ANC in response to the outcry against the proposed Protection Of Information Bill. President Jacob Zuma said something along the lines of we are the people who brought media freedom to this country you cannot tell us about media freedom. This statement sounds remarkably similar to the ideology Mugabe expresses when he argues that ZANU-PF liberated Zimbabwe and therefore they can do as they wish. Mabhuti Mtyunza the ANC regional executive seemed to avoid the issue being discussed and continued with his own agenda of how the ANC has done so much for the country. He argued that the media is “denting” and “destroying the country” and “working for the opposition” and as a result needs to be “monitored and guided”.

Does South Africa not realise that the platform of democracy is freedom of the press and freedom of expression. South Africa seems to have failed to learn from Zimbabwe’s mistakes, once there is no freedom of press corruption thrives and ministers are able to exploit resources as well as people.

Now tell me. If in any given week we can have Freshlyground banned from performing in Zimbabwe, Owen Maseko’s work on Gukurahundi banned, and SW Radio Africa jammed, what’s the point of this inclusive government again?

I don’t usually read a book and feel compelled to write about it.

But in the case of Valerie Tagwira’s splendid novel, ‘The Uncertainty of Hope’, I simply must.

The first time I heard about this novel was in 2006 when a visiting Danish friend doing her PhD research around Zimbabwean gendered discourse presented it to me during one of our lively discussions. This friend also had Tsitsi Dangarembga’s much-anticipated second book, ‘The Book of Not’ and in my excitement to lay hands on it, I chose the latter as my reading fodder instead.

And because I’d never really heard much about ‘The Uncertainty of Hope’ – or its author – I somehow never got round to reading it.

Over the last year however, I have managed to forge a good cyber friendship with Tagwira who always encourages me on to get my first novel completed – I’ve found her to be very gentle yet incisive in everything she says.

And it somehow gnawed away at me that I had never ventured into her own literary mind by reading her book. What, I wondered, did a practising medical doctor’s prose talk about?

And so last week I bought my copy of ‘The Uncertainty of Hope’ to find out.

What an amazing piece of literature!

If ‘Nervous Conditions’ was the narrative of womanhood and its myriad challenges for our newly independent Zimbabwe, then Tagiwra’s novel is the dominant gendered text for our nation’s 2000s – a time of social, political and economic crisis.

The novel’s protagonist, Onai, is a woman who suffers many dilemmas in her roles as wife, mother, breadwinner and ordinary Zimbabwean living through the harsh times of 2005 – where hyperinflation, queues for scarce commodities and the deathly effects of the misguided Murambatsvina operations colour the hopelessness of a once prosperous nation.

Onai, is also a victim of gross domestic violence and lives out an existence that is almost admirable in its absorption of so much pain and disappointment.

And what Tagwira does so well is to mirror her main character’s life against other women whose struggles are excruciating to various extents – Melody, the third year university student who is sleeping with a married man to raise her fees as well as get a taste of the life her family can’t afford; Emily, the compassionate doctor who’s torn, like many potential Diasporans, between obeying her conscience and staying home, and departing overseas to receive second-class treatment while earning enough to live comfortably; and Sheila, the sex worker who’s contracted HIV and worries about her young child’s future without a mother because long waiting lists bar her from getting access to life-prolonging ARVs.

This novel may be set during a particular era in our history – a time when we were all once meaningless millionaires – but it still speaks to the issues that affect Zimbabwe’s women five years later.

And Tagwira definitely understands the subject matter well. Many passages in this 363-page journey had my skin swelling up in goose bumps because yes, here is a woman who speaks about the things we are not often too ready to acknowledge, and therefore address.

Here is one such passage which takes place early in the novel as Onai encounters a wave of depression due to the fact that no one understands why she cannot leave her abusive husband:

She would not be able to bear the shame of being a divorced woman. How could she possibly face a world that despised divorcees; looked down on single mothers? Marital status was everything. It did not really matter how educated or otherwise skilled a woman was. A woman’s worth was relative to one man, her husband: westernised values about women surviving outside marriage held no authenticity mumusha (in the home). In her whole extended family, nobody had ever had a divorce. She would not let herself be the first.

This book is not a patchwork of fanciful writing. It is gritty, heart-wrenching, enlightening, warming – and all carefully controlled by a credible and clever storyline that allows for the forces of life to bring together, as well as separate, its various characters.

I wonder, sadly, why Tagwira has not received the same acclaim for this breathtaking tale as have the Dangarembgas,  Gappahs and Veras of our women’s writing world.

What a massive pity.

I only hope though that by your reading this short account of my experience, which I sadly can’t provide all the finer details of (lest I begin to ramble!), you too will pick up if this amazing novel if you have not already.

So many discussion points, innumerable advocacy issues, a whiff of the pungency of a decadent and decaying Zimbabwe – and all in well-written and engaging prose.

You simply must read this book and crown a true Zimbabwean heroine.

In our newsletter yesterday, we shared a story from the Mail & Guardian about the new Freshlyground video “Chicken to Change” which Bev Clark blogged about last week.

According to TimesLive:

Top local band Freshlyground have added a cheeky spin to the music video of their latest single, Chicken to Change, as they challenge Zimbabwean president Robert Gabriel Mugabe’s leadership. In the song, lead singer Zolani Mahola sings about what a noble “supernova” Mugabe was, but then says that somewhere along the way, he fell.

One subscriber shared some of her reflections in response:

First impulsive comment: Freshly Ground will never be allowed into Zimbabwe now or ever for as long as the chicken hasn’t changed!

Reflective Comment: Powerful metaphor that speaks for all silent Zimbos . . . WE NEED CHANGE! It’s a pity we can never be bold enough to CHANGE THE CHICKEN . . .

An after thought: The non-chicken party may consider adopting this as their counter jingle to the chicken jingles we so tired off listening to on national radio. It surely would top the charts!