Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Nadine Gordimer's "Six Feet of the Country" & Wole Soyinka's "Telephone Conversation"


A Critical Paper of Nadine Gordimer's and Wole Soyinka's
 Six Feet of the Country and Telephone Conversation
By Isaiah Cabanero




“The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow,

he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.”
- Dr. Eric Berne

The natures of the relationships the African population had, in general, with the other populations of the world, particularly the ones they had with the population of the whites, who first came to settle in for trade and agriculture, then eventually to colonize, the southern portion of the African continent in the decades past have had very significant impacts in world relations and literature. Most especially during the Apartheid period*, when the natures of these relationships were at their gravest, the African population suffered grievous separation policies of the ruling white government not only racially, but also economically, socially, and educationally. This is both the subjects being presented and tackled in Nadine Gordimer’s short story “Six Feet of the Country” and Wole Soyinka’s poem “Telephone Conversation”.
In “Six Feet of the Country”, a white couple living in their farm in the countryside, just ten miles outside the city of Johannesburg, is faced with a situation involving them and their young African farm boy and his brother, who illegally immigrated to Johannesburg to find work but got severely sick along the way, lied ill in his brother’s hut for days, and then died, inside the premises of the couple’s farm. The couple now is thrust with the responsibility to take care of and bury the dead young man’s body. The conflict arose when the young African farm boy’s dead brother’s body is handled by the authorities differently than what he, in coherence with his family’s tradition, had hoped for.
In “Telephone Conversation”, an African is on the phone, calling up to a landlady in some location far away in order to get himself some space to stay in upon his arrival there after his journey. He confessed to her that he is an African, and then their conversation over the telephone went from negotiating the price of the space he’d want to stay in upon his arrival to negotiating the lightness or darkness of his complexion. Their conversation soon ended with the landlady hanging up her receiver on the other end of the line.
The two selections, “Six Feet of the Country” and “Telephone Conversation”, though one is a short story and the other a poem, can be creatively analogized to the elements of the foremost-mentioned quotation by Dr. Berne; taking one of the two as the jay and the other as the sparrow. Concerning oneself much of which selection is which from the other, as what is followed-up by the quotation, forfeits oneself of seeing the essence of the selections or the messages they preach. With this kind of reasoning in mind, the two selections can be analyzed together, as one, as if in an overlapping or super-imposing manner, with the lines of the poem tried to be weaved harmoniously into the mesh of the short story’s paragraphs. Some of the lines of the poem are further chopped into composite sensible phrases, and are weaved not necessarily chronologically into the sequence of the paragraphs of the short story, but more soundly into the most comparable and most parallel ones. This kind of literary approach is part-Deconstruction, part-New Criticism, part-New Historicism, part-Structuralism, and part-Semiotic Criticism. ...

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Thursday, August 1, 2013

Tonight, One Essay



An analysis of Nadine Gordimer’s short story
 Six Feet of the Country
By Isaiah Cabanero


            As narrated in the short story “Six Feet of the Country” by Nadine Gordimer: “We bought our place, ten miles out of Johannesburg on one of the main roads, to change something in ourselves, I suppose; you seem to rattle about so much with a marriage like ours. You long to hear nothing but a deep satisfying silence when you sound a marriage. The farm hasn’t managed that for us, of course, but it has done other things, unexpected, illogical.”
             Upon these lines that, in part, opened the story, in some way, presents the state of mind of the protagonist in the story, the narrator, himself a married white man, living as master or baas (a South African term for “boss” or “master”) in his farm a few miles out of the city of Johannesburg in South Africa; and these may as very well present the ultimate thesis of the short story itself. To simply put things out, solely based on those opening lines, a “change” must have been sought, so a “search” or “journey” to a far away is supposed and is set foot for this “change”, and whether or not that “change” sought was found in the far away indeed, all that is just clear and known here is the fact, rooted from the narrator’s testimony, that the “search” brought about other things: things unexpected and things illogical. ...


Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Nadine Gordimer - Banquet Speech at the Nobel Banquet 1991

Nadine Gordimer - Banquet Speech
Nadine Gordimer's speech at the Nobel Banquet, December 10, 1991

Nadine Gordimer
     "Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Your Excellencies, Fellow Laureates, Ladies and Gentlemen,

      When the six-year-old daughter of a friend of mine overheard her father telling someone that I had been awarded the Nobel Prize, she asked whether I had ever received it before. He replied that the Prize was something you could get only once. Whereupon the small girl thought a moment: 'Oh' she said, 'so it's like chicken-pox.'
Well, Flaubert said that 'honours dishonour' the writer, and Jean-Paul Sartre declined this particular honour, but whether as malediction or malady one cannot say. I certainly find being the recipient at this celebratory dinner more pleasurable and rewarding than chicken-pox, having now in my life experienced both.
     But the small girl was not entirely wrong. Writing is indeed, some kind of affliction in its demands as the most solitary and introspective of occupations. We writers do not have the encouragement and mateyness I imagine, and even observe, among people whose work is a group activity. We are not orchestrated; poets sing unaccompanied, and prose writers have no cue on which to come in, each with an individual instrument of expression to make the harmony or dissonance complete. We must live fully in order to secrete the substance of our work, but we have to work alone. From this paradoxical inner solitude our writing is what Roland Barthes called 'the essential gesture' towards the people among whom we live, and to the world; it is the hand held out with the best we have to give.
     When I began to write as a very young person in a rigidly racist and inhibited colonial society, I felt, as many others did, that I existed marginally on the edge of the world of ideas, of imagination and beauty. These, taking shape in poetry and fiction, drama, painting and sculpture, were exclusive to that distant realm known as 'overseas'. It was the dream of my contemporaries, white and black, to venture there as the only way to enter the world of artists. It took the realization that the colour bar - I use that old, concrete image of racism - was like the gate of the law in Kafka's parable, which was closed to the supplicant throughout his life because he didn't understand that only he could open it. It took this to make us realize that what we had to do to find the world was to enter our own world fully, first. We had to enter through the tragedy of our own particular place.
     If the Nobel awards have a special meaning, it is that they carry this concept further. In their global eclecticism they recognize that no single society, no country or continent can presume to create a truly human culture for the world. To be among laureates, past and present, is at least to belong to some sort of one world."

From Les Prix Nobel. The Nobel Prizes 1991, Editor Tore Frängsmyr, [Nobel Foundation], Stockholm, 1992

Copyright © The Nobel Foundation 1991