The Eye of the Leopard by Henning Mankell was published by The New Press, NY, 2008.
This novel by Swedish author Mankell was first published in 1990 in Swedish. The English translation came out earlier this year.
The story bounces back and forth between the Sweden of protagonist Hans’ youth and his later days as a farmer in Zambia from 1969 to 1987. It is a complex novel that takes American readers into two different cultural worlds, both of which are not easy to understand.
Hans comes from a broken home where he was raised by a drunken father. Mostly an observer in his home village, he had but two friends: a boy his own age who was injured in a tragic accident and a disfigured woman Janine about ten years his senior. Theirs was a weird ménage, but out of the destructive force of their friendship came the impetus for Hans to abandon Sweden to seek his fortunes in Africa.
Initially Hans only aspired to visit a missionary hill station to honor Janine, who had always wanted to go there, but circumstances got complicated and rootless Hans was drawn progressively into a continent and culture that he was poorly equipped to fathom and never really understood. Befriended by European farmers, at the behest of a widow, he took over a chicken farm that he ran for nearly twenty years.
Hans’ Africa education allows author Mankell to investigate many aspects of Europeans’ encounters with Zambians. The thrust of the story puts Hans in league with the small community of post-independence European farmers. Although critical of their attitudes, he comes to understand their fears, if not their love-hate relationship with Africa and with Zambians. Despite trying to be more modern in his relationships with Africans, Hans increasingly faces the conundrum of not belonging. Betrayal, violence and political intrigue bring matters to a head.
In the course of the novel author Mankell touches on racism, witchcraft, missionary zeal, sex, work ethic, foreign assistance, corruption and politics - all in compelling fashion.
“Superstition I can understand, but how can one convert someone from poverty?”
“It isn’t normal to live a life surrounded by hate.”
“The poverty of the whites is their vulnerability.”
“Aid work would be easy if we did not have to deal with Africans.”
“A white man in Africa is someone who takes part in a play he knows nothing about.”
Neither Europeans nor Africans come off well in this novel. No one breaks out of the stereotype assigned by the author, but their interactions do provide a solid background for the drama of the plot. There is considerable introspection by Hans about what life is or means, mostly when in a malarial fever, but this provides the mechanism to jump back and forth in time and between countries.
Although set in Zambia (and authentic in regard to geography), every part time visitor to anywhere in Africa will recognize the cultural dissonance that provides the grist for the book. It is an intriguing read that works slowly to one of two possible predictable ends.
Showing posts with label Zambia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zambia. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, November 30, 2007
Zambia - Book Review of The Unheard
The Unheard – a memoir of deafness and Africa
by Josh Swiller; Henry Holt and Company, New York, 2007
If you yearn to relive the angst, frustrations, self-doubt and self discovery of your Peace Corps experience, this may be the book for you. Josh Swiller who served in northern Zambia in the early 1990s was an unusual volunteer who apparently had an unusually conflict ridden tour. Perhaps, as he himself would admit, it was his combative personality, but also – as he repeatedly refers to in the book – it was because the town where he was assigned was just mean and devoid of effective leadership. In any case, common cultural misunderstandings often flared up into major confrontations, especially when our idealistic hero put his foot down and stood firm on his scruples.
Josh’s experience was sadly typical in many respects. He was puzzlement to the community. Why was he there? Why was he impotent to wave a magic wand and heal the diseased and dying or provide wells, jobs or education? Ultimately since he could not work wonders, what was amiss? On Josh’s side, he too wondered why he was there. What was he to do to promote development? And how to do it? Especially since the community’s response was nearly zero. Finally, what did he accomplish?
Josh carried an additional burden as a deaf man. He could partially understand one-on-one when his hearing aids were working, but in crowds or with background noise intelligible sounds ceased. Josh wrote frankly about his deafness and the issues that he had to deal with - exclusion from group conversations for example. But part of his motivation to join the Peace Corps was to find himself and to find a place where deafness mattered less. He said he found that in Zambia. Being white and American was odd enough; no one seemed concerned with his deafness.
Josh forged a solid friendship with Augustine Jere who served as his guide to Zambian culture and the strange town they lived in. Ultimately, this friendship was tested by culture and corrupt, even evil, circumstances. Without divulging the story, let me say that it tracks. Zambians, their town, expectations and frailties come alive. The author writes compellingly. Former PCVs will recognize the reality of the world Swiller so ably describes and will admire his tenacity even while deploring his (self admitted) foolishness in attempting to deal with it.
Reviewed by Robert E. Gribbin, December 2007
by Josh Swiller; Henry Holt and Company, New York, 2007
If you yearn to relive the angst, frustrations, self-doubt and self discovery of your Peace Corps experience, this may be the book for you. Josh Swiller who served in northern Zambia in the early 1990s was an unusual volunteer who apparently had an unusually conflict ridden tour. Perhaps, as he himself would admit, it was his combative personality, but also – as he repeatedly refers to in the book – it was because the town where he was assigned was just mean and devoid of effective leadership. In any case, common cultural misunderstandings often flared up into major confrontations, especially when our idealistic hero put his foot down and stood firm on his scruples.
Josh’s experience was sadly typical in many respects. He was puzzlement to the community. Why was he there? Why was he impotent to wave a magic wand and heal the diseased and dying or provide wells, jobs or education? Ultimately since he could not work wonders, what was amiss? On Josh’s side, he too wondered why he was there. What was he to do to promote development? And how to do it? Especially since the community’s response was nearly zero. Finally, what did he accomplish?
Josh carried an additional burden as a deaf man. He could partially understand one-on-one when his hearing aids were working, but in crowds or with background noise intelligible sounds ceased. Josh wrote frankly about his deafness and the issues that he had to deal with - exclusion from group conversations for example. But part of his motivation to join the Peace Corps was to find himself and to find a place where deafness mattered less. He said he found that in Zambia. Being white and American was odd enough; no one seemed concerned with his deafness.
Josh forged a solid friendship with Augustine Jere who served as his guide to Zambian culture and the strange town they lived in. Ultimately, this friendship was tested by culture and corrupt, even evil, circumstances. Without divulging the story, let me say that it tracks. Zambians, their town, expectations and frailties come alive. The author writes compellingly. Former PCVs will recognize the reality of the world Swiller so ably describes and will admire his tenacity even while deploring his (self admitted) foolishness in attempting to deal with it.
Reviewed by Robert E. Gribbin, December 2007
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