A new form of literature

The passage of any era brings about changes that will be felt for years afterwards. The change is more profound in the cases of wars, plagues and other events that bring about marked social upheaval. The world is going through one of the longest plagues in the history of time, and any form of expression that will come after this period is bound to be of a sort that will reveal a sense of peculiarity that will mark it as uniquely different from all the other forms of expression that came before this period. There is an almost inborn human need to express the opinions relevant to the bigger population through the art of storytelling. The advent of the Covid-19 pandemic has meant that there are now new ways, new perspectives, new attitudes and obviously new stories that shall be told in a new way to recount the experiences of the pandemic. This is the new form of literature that we shall see come to the fore meant to explore the human condition in the face of challenging times. It will be a form of literature history will note as it did the works of such authors as Toni Morrison and Albert Camus, William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe. The realities unfolding at any given point in time can only be interpreted for the consumption of the larger global audience by the mind that observes them. It is if one observes an entity closely enough that they ever truly get to understand it to a reasonably high degree (for one can never claim to know certain aspects of existence in their absolute or to have full knowledge of them; we can therefore only deduce of their meanings in the relative, comparative, or, objective sense). Life comes to us all in a manner that largely remains a mystery and, only the myth, the philosophy, and the religion of the time can claim to understand some of the salient aspects of life. However, even such an understanding is not to the full due to the simple fact that life itself is ever-revolving as the stars and the planets and the moons that make up the universe within which all the realms of life exist. The characters Camus creates in his works are of this current era’s ilk; all of them are separated or exiled from the rest of the world within which the live. The truth of the matter is that one can only observe the world or any other entity if they are without it; within it, the act of observation becomes hard to execute for then full control is in the hands of the observed entity. The character of Meursault is put into question when he does not mourn the passing of his mother in The Outsider (L’ Etranger or The Stranger). Human society mourns the death of any of its citizens, and if a citizen does not mourn the passing of another, their act is considered strange or absurd. But Camus places a character like Meursault in his works to question why we should be forced into conforming when we are born different (though not exactly ‘unique’ as many would like to believe). Society casts out those who dare to be different and Monsieur Camus argues that: ‘In our society any man who does not weep at his mother’s funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death.’ I only meant that the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game. Conformity is good sometimes, but it often turns out to be a detrimental factor when it comes to self-expression, and it retards such virtues as honesty and trust. That one behaves in a manner concomitant with the set norm does not necessarily mean they agree with such a norm, custom, or, tradition, and the writer as the observer and the teacher of the society within which he or she lives sometimes has to assume the stance of the outsider who does not conform to the societal rules that govern the individuals in society. The current pandemic has forced us all to be the outsider even when it comes to performing something as simple as living within society. The position of the poet, the philosopher, the scientist and the journalist have all been forced to live in a world that is fast changing to exclude and to trim and to limit on the basis of the precautionary measures to counter the epidemic. There are no large funerals anymore, no more lavish weddings, and almost all human celebrations that usually meant human congregation have been shelved for a while. In The Song of Solomon the ‘old folks’ lie about the return of African-Americans is proven true when Macon Dead sets out to reclaim his heritage for, it is in his own words far more precious than gold. The current flow of events has forced the individual to be defined by other people; one is safe only if the larger community understands the true essence of the precautionary measures undertaken in the light of the Covid-19. That there are still events of corruption that are a result of the abuse of power, it is often the case that this heinous behaviour by unscrupulous individuals is based on the unequal scales of social structure supposedly designed by the powerful ruling class. The truth however is that the way one ends up is in reality passed from father to son, in the process creating a perpetual inferiority complex that draws the individual deeper into the clutches of inhumanity where people feel they are entitled to gaining more than others irrespective of the prevailing conditions. Too often, we dream of equality but forget to exorcise the demons of being defined by other people whose only interest was erasing our true self, so that we could be more pliable tools in their hands. Toni Morrison captures the essence of being human in a world that considers certain sections of society a permanent underclass despite the tremendous contribution such sectors have made in the civilisation of the world. Considered inferior does not exactly mean one is inferior; inferiority is determined by how one defines themselves in the mental prisons of the world where colour bars keep the oppressed man from seeing the true light of the world. Colonialism put the whole world upside down so that the only one who could see the wealth of the world from the correct perspective was the colonist and the slave-master. Toni Morrison presents this picture in Sula, where the place called ‘The Bottom’ is actually a useless, rocky infertile land on top of a hill overlooking a rich valley where the rich white folks live. A passage from the book reads: The master said, “Oh, no! See those hills? That’s bottom land, rich and fertile.” “But it’s high up in the hills,” said the slave. “High up from us,” said the master, “but when God looks own, it’s the bottom. That’s why we call it so. It’s the bottom of heaven-best land there is.” So the slave pressed his master to try to get him some. He preferred it to the valley. And it was done. The nigger got the hilly land, where planting was backbreaking, where the soil slid down and washed away the seeds, and where the wind lingered all through the winter. Those blacks in Sula are sadly represented by Shadrack, a shell-shocked twenty-two-year old whose mind has been ravaged by war. Content with living at the Bottom, many of us fail to see our true place in the world; that the madman clanging the cowbells is actually a saint come to save us from our state of being. Steeped in self-serving self-interest, many of us that have ‘made it’ forget that the ‘top’ we have reached is actually the bottom to those races that presented it to us. We should wake up and live and see our place as we should, as it really is, so says the voice of Sula. The world before the advent of the viral pandemic had steeped into the clutches of debauchery, the literary hope such reading brings up is that it will be a better place despite the continuing corruption and power struggles. Upon reading Beloved and The Bluest Eye, one enters into the houses where the people live with the ghosts of their past, their dreams, their wishes, and their true selves hidden from the rest of the world. The voices in Toni Morrison’s books are many and deep, but the message they deliver to the human folks to deal with the past to understand the present is singular in its pursuit of true human history and identity in the dark background of slavery and colonialism. The Atlantic is a sea full of ghosts from a dark past, but those ghosts are part of black history which should never be forgotten if the human race is to reclaim its true history. Barnett states of Toni Morrison: Morrison guides her readers through the pain of extracting the memories that these characters have so long repressed, and the struggles they face “to confront a past they cannot forget. Indeed, it is apparent forgetting that subjects them to traumatic return; confrontation requires a direct attempt at remembering…” That we cannot make peace in the present is simply because we treat the past and its events like a hushed wrong. Instead of recounting facts as they are, we shove them under the rugs at dinner tables of ‘truth and reconciliation’, pretend we have forgotten the past, and then wonder why it rears its ugly head the next day. I believe we should be inspired to write truthfully about our diverse histories as the muse does. Toni Morrison is a mother whose words can guide the world to a better place, where black girls and boys do not dream of being white; because they have been taught that the only standards are white. Love your fellow human beings as you love thineself, forgive them of their wrongs. But first love and forgive yourself first, then forget the sad past truthfully. If the bow and the arrow were realities of a given era, guns and bullets assume their position in a different age, what remains is that the target is one (and the target now is to do away with the virus and all the hardship it brings), that is, the two entities may seem different when observed from the point of view of one focused mainly on their outward appearance without delving into the essence of their goals and objectives (to shoot at a target’s bull’s eye). The artist does not focus only on the outward but actually bothers to find out what is within, that is go all the way to the purpose. Writers like William Shakespeare have been noted as timeless due to the simple fact that their stories cover the actual width and spread of the experiences of human beings in the world. Writers from different countries can from this point on tackle the issue of governance in a similar fashion ignorant of time and place. These are elements that define what we call ‘the human condition’, in short those elements to daily living that differ not from place to place but are common no matter where one goes in the world. The purpose to write, draw, dance, act, and express how one as an artist sees life actually serves to make others aware of what may under ‘normal’ circumstances be missed. In the thick of the competition, many tend to follow the urge to do so mainly because of the ‘demands’ of the moment. In this stampede, the likelihood is that the simple things are missed and what connects humanity is thus lost. It is in the current moment that should learn to work together to douse the flames tearing the neighbour’s house that is on fire. The reality of the Covid-19 may seem a world of endless contrasts working in opposition, the sudden change in the environment somehow serves to define life in a new way. The quiet neighbour who did not speak on the normal day actually remembered to greet on a Sunday because of the sermon he or she has to attend at their home church has had to change to work together with those they did not work together with before. There is just no time to be hypocritical because the demands of life and work in these times render one myopic, that is, all are now focusing largely on the duties meted out by the ruthless employer of the day (Coronavirus). In the process, we all end up missing the simple things in life such as greeting the neighbour. Literature has to come in at this point to remind the common folk to understand the true value of the simple things in life before the realities of the moment shut the world out for good. It will be a literature of recovery and of restoration from this point on. Tšepiso S. Mothibi