Issue #1 of Kwani?, the journal of contemporary African literature.

Several of my previous blog posts have mentioned Kwani?, the Nairobi literary journal/publishing network dedicated to building contemporary African literature. My interest in the publication was first aroused by the contrasting literary scenes in Uganda and Kenya. While FEMRITE, based in Kampala, Uganda, is a strong local writers’ organization, I never found a literary magazine like Kwani? in Eastern Africa, which offered everything the local and foreign reader could want: fiction, non-fiction, poetry, illustrations—all dealing with the world that is Kenya from a hundred different perspectives.

So, when I was first introduced to Kwani?, I could not let go. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about the role of literature in the development of a national psyche, particularly in post-conflict situations. Words have a way of immortalizing moments that are otherwise easily swept under the rug forever. In this sense, we are indebted to the artists that immortalize these events and ensure their recognition in the long-term, whether political, economic or social. As Kahora says, “writers are society’s conscience.”

In Kenya, this has been particularly important. The post-election crisis could have become just that: another post-election crisis. Previous elections have been bloody. Previous elections have been rigged. Previous elections were built on empty promises and on bought votes. But through literature like Kwani?, perhaps there is an acute awareness among the public that this is not just another post-election crisis. This was the final straw.

The last two issues of Kwani? focused on the post-election crisis, making an indelible impression on readers. The goal was to record in pictures, cartoons, poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction what happened in the first 100 days of 2008. As Kahora says, “One of the big problems we’ve always had is a problem in recording momentous events in this country which leads to a widespread amnesia; such a record, makes sure there is no excuse, at least from a literary community’s viewpoint, for the kind of behaviour [during the post-election crisis].”

Consequently, Kwani? also wants to focus on the younger generation of Kenyans and their aspirations for the country as ‘leaders of tomorrow.’ Kahora says that the next issue of Kwani? will focus on “youth expressions—as a way of going deeper into the 46-year-old malaise [Kenya] is suffering…re-evaluating who we are and what directions we are heading in.” Closer to the 2012 elections, Kahora says Kwani? will use the magazine “as [a] way of making people remember.”

Among youth, the coming generation of Kenyan leaders and doers, Kahora says that Kwani? represents “a younger un-texted space that falls outside of official narratives, that can be written into being.” Kenya is a country saturated with stale political narratives that never seem to change, published day to day in the big local newspaper, The Daily Nation. Kwani?, though perhaps only drop in the bucket in the long-run, offers youth, and other Kenyans, a means of looking beyond the mainstream and writing out a new idea of Kenya. Perhaps, through this process, some of these aspirations will become reality.

Author Binyavanga Wainana in London. Photo by TMS Ruge (tmsruge.com).

When I attended the Caine Prize in London last week, I was excited to listen to the voices of some of Africa’s top authors. I felt caught up in the growing literature movement: writers like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Binyavanga Wainaina topping international headlines, developing a notable reputation within their countries and abroad.

However, interviewing Binyavanga Wainaina later that week put things into perspective. Wainana is a character: he swears like a sailor, wears colorful printed shirts, and tells me off for using a term like “African literature.” Turning conventional thought on its head, he opens all African writers to a new, more equal, level of international attention.

There is no term like “African literature,” he insists. Instead, one must look at writing by African authors on the same level as one scrutinizes Canadian, American, French or Spanish writers: it’s about the quality of writing, the story being told, not the political identity of each writer or the “Dark Continent” they emerge from.

“[African writers] have been ghettoized. They don’t exist in world literature as other books do because it’s African. We call it African literature, what the fuck is African literature? It’s like you have to be culturally dutiful. Like eating spinach,” says Wainaina.

While reading Kwani?, a Kenyan magazine that publishes primarily African authors, I have been struck by the unfamiliar but alluring construction of certain sentences, the subtlety of characters despite strong colors and adjectives, the pure descriptive power of a few well-chosen words. However, internationally, these writers are not noticed for their literary genius. Instead, they often remain revered for their politicized past, their belonging to “failed states,” to a “Dark Continent.”

Kwani? was Wainaina’s first attempt at reversing this ideology. As former editor and founder, he wanted to publish what excites the Kwani? team, wherever the writing may hve come from. He wanted to push the boundaries by bringing people outside their literary comfort zones. Kwani? is not about Pan-African or African literature, but about a new quality of writing.

“We wanted the aesthetic to present itself, the issues to be framed in their appropriate aesthetic, because fiction itself is a form of intelligence. I really dislike people trying to feel like they need to make the intelligence more political by saying it’s pan-African.”

In line with the continent’s ICT-revolution and the need to turn the current (Western) view of African literature on its head, Wainaina points to the mobile phone.

“Books in mobile phones. You have to realize that this digital phone is like the printing press. For the first time there is a actually a market. You can find a 100,000,000 people who live within Kenya and Nigeria on the same platform like Zain,” he explains, “You can write the most quirky, wacky thing ever and find your initial 30,000 people who will pay 100 shillings to read it.”

The networks that currently exist for publishing African authors exist only outside the continent itself, in the comfort of London or New York, places where people continue to perpetuate an “African literature” rooted in poverty and war.

However, by giving all Africans access to their own writing and publishing tools, the mobile phone offers the chance for people to make their own voices heard within their own communities, countries and continent. Perhaps, through this process, countries like Uganda and Kenya will be able to determine their own writers and stories, creating a literature no longer defined by the tastes of the West.

(Photo by TMS Ruge)

A panel at the British Library celebrating 10 years of the Caine Prize for African Writing. Left to right: Brian Chikwava, Binyavanga Wainaina, Chika Unigwe, moderator Aminatta Forna. Photo via the Caine Prize's Facebook page.

Last Saturday afternoon, I attended “Writing Africa: Making 10 years of the Caine Prize“ at the British Library in London. The prize, which awards around $16,000 to the best short story written by an African author, featured previous winners Chika Unigwe, Binyavanga Wainana and Brian Chikwava.

After the reading, a member of the audience asked whether this increasing access to African literature promoted through initiatives like the Caine Prize and publishing companies like Kwani Trust has also renewed young people’s interest in Africa literature. While there used to be a strong literary tradition in Africa, it was damaged by years of post-independence unrest in the 60’s and 70’s.

I recently visited a small Somali pastoral camp in North Eastern Province (NEP) in Kenya. Ebla, a ten-year-old girl, was telling the translator that she hoped to be a teacher. In her community, there were two role models: her parents, pastoralists, and the mwalimu, a pre-school teacher.

In other areas of the world, children are given access to hundreds of different role models. Children, teenagers and young adults interact with a variety of people, from poets to neurosurgeons, who inspire them with different ideas of how the world can be defined and the roles one can play.

However, in remote places, like in this pastoral community, there is limited opportunity for children to interact with people from different walks of life. And, while Twitter and other social/networked media movements do increasingly permit people to contribute their knowledge, it undoubtedly also furthers the big gap between the knowledge base between those with and those without Internet and cell-phone access.

In this sense, traditional literature is key in helping rural communities see themselves in a global context. This is particularly true in areas where lifestyles are threatened. In the northeast of Kenya, where drought is a recurring and worsening concern, the diversification of economic livelihoods is necessary and can be inspired by children developing new role models through this type of locally-inspired material.

Moreover, there might be an interest for making books like Harare North, Jambula Tree and Black Sisters’ Street accessible to youth in the Kireka slums or in Kenya’s mobile Somali communities. After the reading, I overhead a conversation between celebrated authors Michela Wrong and Binyavanga Wainana. Wrong was inquiring whether it was possible to publish the Kwani Trust’s volumes—a compilation of short stories, poetry and art by African artists—at a cheaper price, to ensure that more young people could access them.

This is an idea that must be supported. It is particularly important that African authors are given the opportunity to build their reputations and grounding within the populations they feature—particularly when they write about the ordinary: the woman who falls in love, the young boy who goes to school.

Sociology suggests that when someone is constantly told how they are, it eventually makes them who they are. By allowing young students to learn a sense of wonder in their world through voices bred by their communities will help reverse the victimized mindset bred by aid and the pornography of poverty.

During the conversation on Saturday, Binyavanga Wainana said: “If people are not patronized, they read!” Moving away from the gibberish of NGOs and the endless books on Africa, war and poverty, another way of supporting the marginalized around the world is to help give them a voice, whether through ICTs or through a more traditional means, literature.

I would encourage anyone interested in supporting this nascent movement to contact Billy Kahora, current editor of Kwani Trust at info at kwani dot org or through their website. Kwani Trust is also holding a short story competition with a winner’s prize of 100,000 Kenyan Shillings. Click here for details.