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Oliver Mtukudzi

David Mungoshi Shelling the Nuts
“The Old Man and the Sea” won Ernest Miller Hemingway the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature in 1954. In the words of the judges, Hemingway’s Nobel elevation was “for his mastery of the art of narrative, most recently demonstrated in The Old Man and the Sea, and for the influence that he has exerted on contemporary style”.

In addition to his writing, Hemingway was a great outdoors person with a keen sense of adventure. Evidence of this is found in his graphic, vivid and convincing depiction of deep sea fishing and safari hunting in arguably two of the best such writings in English: The Old Man and the Sea, and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.

Throughout his life, Hemingway was concerned with cultivating a macho image of himself both directly and vicariously through his work and travels as well as through his writing, respectively. Hemingway’s fascination with war and conflict found him in Spain a year after the start of the Spanish Civil War in 1936. Hemingway covered the conflict for Alliance, an American Newspaper. His great book, “For whom the bell tolls,” was a direct result of this phase of his life.

Chenjerai Hove

At the age of 18, Hemingway was wounded in Italy during the First World War, while driving an ambulance for the American Red Cross. His experiences on the Italian war front are what led to “A Farewell to Arms,” his evocative story of love and escapade.

Hemingway and Pauline, his second wife, travelled to Kenya and Tanganyika on safari in 1933. His books, “Green hills of Africa,” “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and, of course the psychoanalytic story of Francis Macomber (a perfect study in cowardice), are linked to this trip by Hemingway.

With the obvious exception of the long-winded works of Charles Dickens, creative writers tend to strive for a crisp kind of conciseness in their writing; something breathed into life by precise, appropriate and evocative diction and imagery. It is more than likely that this fascination with brevity is what informed the quest for the definitive one word that can tell a whole story. In this regard, and according to a popular anecdote, during an animated talk on writing, Hemingway said he could write a novel in six words. The result of that undertaking was the following six-word story:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

While there is some debate about whether or not Hemingway actually wrote the six words in question, they are, nevertheless, attributed to him. Hemingway, as a master of minimalist writing, would obviously have been up to the task of what became known as “flash fiction” or “sudden fiction”. Let the case be what it may be; the truth of the matter is that writers strive to produce writing that is epigrammatic and, therefore, memorable and unforgettable. We owe some of the great proverbs of English to lyrical lines of poetry and prose, even: “True love never grows old; Faint heart never won a fair lady; Absence makes the heart grow fonder”, and so on.

In our time beautiful works of art have also been created. Consider, for example, these words from Chenjerai Hove’s novel, “Shadows”. In this book Hove’s creativity comes shining through. During the Rhodesian bush war, Joanna’s father is the hapless victim of conflicting forces. Smith’s soldiers accuse him of working with the terrorists, and the comrades accuse him of being a sell-out. Both sides victimise him.

When the armed struggle ends and independence comes, new contradictions arise and a new war soon begins. Men called dissidents who roam around the country carrying arms of war abduct Joanna’s father to a place in the bush where they accuse him of cooperating with the army. In a macabre case of showmanship and leering humour, one armed man gleefully says to Joanna’s father, “Mudhara, we are going to kill you very nicely indeed. I don’t think you have ever died like this before.”

Some writing is like an exhortation to action, especially when such writing is in poetry or in musical lyrics. One hopes that whoever acts under the influence of such writing does so for a good cause. The negativity of the Hungarian song, “Gloomy Sunday” also known as “The Hungarian Suicide Song” whose lyrics were written by Laszlo Javor, a poet of note, and whose melancholic melody was composed by pianist and composer Rezs? Seress and published in 1933, is unfortunate. It is said that Seress was so distressed about his girl jilting him that he committed suicide. And in later years his example was followed by others. We prefer a situation in which a melody and its lyrics makes people behave in ways that are productive rather than wasteful. Take “Nzira Dzemasoja” or “Mukoma Chakanyuka” as well as “Bafundiseni” or “Dlala Nkazana”, for example. These songs made many leave home and school to join the armed struggle that freed Zimbabwe from the clutches of colonialism.

In all cases context is paramount. While on business in South Africa recently, I went to a Seventh Day Adventist service and one of the hymns selected that day was “It is well with my soul”. The lyrics and melody of this hymn make you want to ask yourself if it is well with your own soul. Next day I went to a funeral in Roodeport where the elder brother of a brother-in-law of mine was being buried. And yes, you guessed it! As the coffin was being slowly lowered the choir was singing, “It is well with my soul.” Afterwards I felt I should research the story behind this song. Below is a summary of the story behind this song:

Horatio Spafford, a successful lawyer and businessman, lived in Chicago with his wife, a son and five daughters. Tragically, his only son died in 1871. Not too long after that the great fire of Chicago devoured much of his business. But, he was, somehow, able to recover. This is his story:

Some years after the great fire of Chicago, Spafford decided to take his family to Europe on vacation. No doubt, the vacation was meant to bring some healing and relaxation into their lives. At the last moment, urgent business that required Spafford’s personal attention made it necessary to postpone his voyage to Europe. His wife and children went ahead of him. He was to have followed them a few days later. The ship carrying his family was rammed by another ship. In only 12 minutes it sank to the bottom of the sea. All four of the Spafford girls perished. After being rescued by someone aboard a small rowing boat Anna Spafford was taken to Cardiff aboard a larger boat from where she sent a telegram to her husband advising him of the tragedy.

Spafford made his way to Cardiff and as they were going past the place where his four daughters and more than 200 other passengers had gone down with the ship, the captain told him that this was the place where the ship had sunk. Thereafter, Horatio Spafford wrote the words of “It is well with my soul.” The music was composed by Phillip Paul Bliss and has become part of an eternal repertoire of Christian worship music.

Many will have heard about Oliver Mtukudzi and his friend and manager, Jack Sadza, popularly known as Jeri. Jack Sadza’s sudden demise inspired the soulful dirge by Mtukudzi which in many ways is one of his best compositions. Jeri brings tears to the eyes of even the most hard-hearted and depicts death as a painful wrenching apart. If the dead do indeed hear us as some will say, Jack Sadza must have felt like returning. Mtukudzi’s words must have lacerated Jeri’s heart as he lamented:

Jeri you’re cruel

Jeri, how could you?

Jeri that was nasty of you,

Leaving me all by myself.

People ask me where my friend is.

Jeri you’re no good, Jeri ooh…

I tell you my people,

Some friendships are deeper than family. Jeri is a song with which many wept for their departed friends.

Happily, the music of the people also celebrates life or just goes humorous in a very infectious way. That is the only way to explain Safirio Madzikatire’s “Katarina”: a brim-full song about the effervescence and joy of life and love. Katarina in the song is so beautiful that she “kills” a man’s heart.

My mother loved the Shona rendition of “It only hurts for a little while” by the Ames Brothers. The Epworth Theatrical Strutters did justice to the song which they called, “Ndakambokutaurira” (I remember telling you). The song had a special meaning for her, as for others, and translates into:

I told you that day

You’d forsake me one day

You’d leave me

I ask you now,

Stop and think again

The melody was superb and the lyrics were apt in many ways.

• David Mungoshi is a writer, social commentator and editor.