Translating Where to Now, Short Stories from Zimbabwe
(2011) to Siqondephi Manje? Indatshana ZaseZimbabwe (2014), made me realise how conservative written isiNdebele
is, to a point where the written form is far from the spoken.
It cannot be
otherwise given that in some cases, the most recent novel set for Ordinary and
Advanced level is fifteen years old. This is not to say that the spoken variety
must find its way into written form wholesale. It is to say that there are
contexts that require us to use common forms of expression and not the
“correct” but archaic forms. I realised
that if I had insisted on such “correctness,” the translation would have been stilted
and substandard, thus ruining the beautiful stories.
The translation
experience made me aware that there are many words that should have found their
way into the isiNdebele lexicon a long time ago, words that some purists claim
are not proper isiNdebele words. In other words, part of the poverty of written
isiNdebele is a limited vocabulary due to inflexibility. The Zimbabwe School
Examinations Council (Zimsec) is partly responsible for the rigidity by
discouraging words and forms of expression the candidates are familiar with –
and here, I am talking about acceptable words and forms as will be discussed
below.
In its spoken form, isiNdebele language is very well,
far from being sickly; in fact, it is lively – at home and abroad. The language
has, just like any other, varieties, including slang. Just as obtains in the
speaking of any language, there are clear instances of ungrammaticality, which
of course, should be corrected. To broadly speak of isiNdebele dying is, most
likely, to speak of archaisms falling out of use, as archaisms do. Otherwise,
for the most part, just like most languages, isiNdebele has shown great
creativity and evolved. Our greatest worry should be that we do not have as
many publications of creative writing as we should, especially current and
inspired publications in this language.
Indeed, one of
the contributing writers, Mzana Mthimkhulu, commented at the launch that it was
strange but exciting to read the translation of his story in isiNdebele for the
translation read like the original. His English story had been “translated back
into isiNdebele, the initial language and context of imagining it.”
NoViolet
Bulawayo, renowned author of We Need New
Names (2013), makes a similar observation about her story in the collection
when she writes on her Facebook page, “my English has Ndebele influences so to
see ‘Snapshots’ translated into Ndebele is like a translation of a translation.”
What is even
more intriguing and fascinating about Siqondephi
Manje? (2014) is that the authors in this compilation come from different
linguistic, ‘ethnic’ and ‘racial’ backgrounds, making for a rich tapestry of
subject matter, point of view and narrative technique. These are contemporary and
exciting stories with many cross-cultural influences to reflect the fluidity of
life within and outside the borders of Zimbabwe; a fluidity of which the
Ndebele people are part of. As such, the
stories are modern as are most of the experiences. For example, there are
stories about migrating within Southern Africa and beyond, to England. We get a
story about the xenophobic attacks against Zimbabweans in South Africa, and
another about undertaking care work in England.
In English, the
stories in Where to Now (2011) are
riveting. They take one through a
journey of mixed emotions– laughter, sadness and anxiety are some of the few
emotions. They all demonstrate immense
creativity. Some flout rules of
punctuation whereas others
use various forms of narration except the linear and those that use creative ways of stitching narrative and narrative time I
captured these techniques in isiNdebele as closely to the original as I could.
The result points to the exciting possibilities there are in writing in
isiNdebele. Another important observation to make is that much as the source
language (English) and target language (isiNdebele) belong to different
cultural groups, hence different norms and idioms, there is also a lot that is
common. The experiences in the stories are Zimbabwean, or are inspired by
different forms of Zimbabweanness. This expands our ways of thinking about
Ndebeleness, language and culture.
There were a couple of charges against the very
essence of translation by one of the panellists at the ZIBF workshop, Felix
Moyo – a television actor, publisher and “specialist” in isiNdebele. The drift
of his speech was that isiNdebele literature can only improve if Ndebele people
write their own literature from scratch. In his words, the translation amounted
to “borrowed robes.” He wanted the
Ndebele to wear their “amabhetshu” (animal skins that were worn by men before
Western clothing), even though he was wearing a jacket and tie. Indeed, he pooh-poohed the effort and likened it to
child’s play – “Asizanga dlala lapha” (We are not here to play), after my paper
about the translation of Siqondephi Manje
(2014). I am using Moyo’s example as it encapsulates some of the very attitudes
and practices by those who consider themselves the custodians of isiNdebele,
that have led to the arrested development of the language and its literature.
Those who are familiar with global literature will
know that part of the reason English literature became dominant is because of
translating works from other languages, notably French, Russian and German.
Authors such as the Dane Hans Christaian Andersen, the French men Voltaire and
Albert Camus, the German Franz Kafka as well as the Russians Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol and Anton Chekhov, just to name a representative
sample, became inspirations to generations of writers writing in English both
inside and outside the UK. In Zimbabwe, Tsanga
Yembeu (1987), the translation of Ngugi waThiongo’s A Grain of Wheat (1967), stands out as one text that has positively
influenced a lot of writers in chiShona, including the translator, Charles
Mungoshi. Recently, Tom Matshakayile Ndlovu translated Yvonne Vera’s The Stone Virgins (2002), and rendered
it as Izintombi Zamatshe Ezimsulwa (2011).
The only worry we should have about translations is
their quality. Good translations can only augment literature in the target language
and, in the presence of a well-developed reading culture, also foster good
writing. The insularity that is being championed by those such as Moyo can only
entrench the sorry state of isiNdebele literature. In fact, realising the value
of translating interesting literary texts from one language to another, Gudhlanga
and Makaudze (2007: 13) write that “The quantitative and qualitative boom in
Shona fiction could be promoted by the establishment of a Translation Centre,
one where trained and experienced translators translate good works of art from
English into Shona.” The same can be said about isiNdebele literature.
At the Zimbabwe
International Book Fair workshop as well at the launch of Siqondephi Manje? (2014) I
gave examples of words that were to be found in the book. Words such as “iphephabheki”
(derived from paper bag) and “suphamakhethi” (supermarket). The audience’s
reaction in both instances, was to say to vehemently declare that these two are
not isiNdebele words. Even when I pointed to the audience at the launch that I
had known “iphephabheki” for more than thirty years, and even when some of them
admitted to using the word just about every day for the same length of time if
not longer, there was still an insistence by others that it was not an isiNdebele
word. They proffered “umgodla” instead, which is not the same thing as “iphephabheki.”
When I pointed out that this word is found in the siNdebele dictionary, more
than three quarters of the audience at the book launch did not believe that.
Indeed, the word is entered on page 193.
It turned out that those who professed to be
fundis in the language did not have isiNdebele dictionaries, a situation which obtained
at three schools I visited – teachers of isiNdebele, including the Heads of
that department, did not have dictionaries in the language. To their credit
though, some of these educators were frustrated by the inflexibility of the
marking scheme, a marking scheme that said a word like “iphephabheki,” once
used in a composition, should be marked as an error. Interestingly, the
definition of “iphephabheki” in the isiNdebele dictionary is, I am convinced,
wrong. The entry reads: “Iphephabheki ngumgodla wephepha olengiswayo.” But this
word is used by isiNdebele speakers to refer to a plastic bag used to carry
one’s shopping; a plastic bag usually re-used not only for carrying purchases
but just about anything – books to school, vegetables, clothes and a myriad of
other things. The entry needs to be revised.
Other words that
the audience at the launch were convinced were not proper isiNdebele and were
not in the isiNdebele lexicon are listed below and next to them, the page
number where it is entered in the siNdebele dictionary. The words are:
“isuphamakhethi” (supermarket) (p.265), “iwindiskirini” (windscreen) (p.276),
“ilayini” (line or queue) (p.131), “ibhimu” (refuse bin) (p. 96), “idindindi”
(lively party) (104), “rusa” (rust) (p.372), “joyina” (to join) (p.286),
“iphakhi” (park) (p.192). These are words that teachers would mark as incorrect
the instant they appear in pupils’ compositions, irrespective of the context
and words that some “masters” of the language will not touch with ten poles.
This, needless to say, results in very stilted writing, making pupils think
that written isiNdebele is difficult, archaic and uninteresting.
One is reminded
of NAMA winning author Ignatius Mabasa at ZIBF 2013 when he pointed out that
educationists are “conspiring to destroy mother languages [like chiShona] by
making it difficult at school,” resulting in students shunning vernacular
languages at high school, “citing them as complex subjects” (http://www.panorama.co.zw/index.php/book-review/690-zibf-heeds-writer-concerns) Accessed 24 February 2014).
There are two
instructive observations one can make here. The first is that Isichazamazwi sesiNdebele (2001) or isiNdebele
Dictionary is a good lexicon. But it is not used effectively. It is the
storehouse for words in the language and should be referred to in order to
establish the existence or non-existence of particular words as well as their
usage in various contexts – just as we do with English. If educators and
self-styled masters in the language determine (one has to ask from where and how
they derive their standards) what is permissible in the language without
referring to Isichazamazwi sesiNdebele
(2001), it means that we are not tapping into already existing and systematic
work in compiling and growing the vocabulary in the language. It also means
that in the absence of the dictionary or ignoring the dictionary, decisions on
the use of the Ndebele language are nothing more than thumb sucking exercises.
More significantly, it means less words to use by the speakers and writers of
the language (when ironically those words appear in their lexicon), resulting
in stifled creativity.
One of the clear
tasks of isiNdebele is to grow its corpus. Languages that have done this successfully,
especially English, have demonstrated a “readiness to absorb words from foreign
tongues, or to make new ones where existing terms are not adequate”
(Rajarajeswari and Mohana, 2013:41). Indeed, as Bryson (2009) observes, about
half the words in English are, etymologically speaking, not English. English
and other languages like it, grow their vocabularies unapologetically, the
result being that “every year new words appear, while others extend or change
their meaning” (Rajarajeswari and Mohana, 2013:41).
While I
acknowledge that the isiNdebele lexicon is robust, more can still be done. Note
that it was compiled fifteen years ago. Clearly there are financial challenges
that hamper constant updating of the siNdebele corpus. But if we are serious
about developing the language, one of the key things is to invest in updating
the lexicon and promoting its use through constant reference to it and by so
doing turn the dictionary into the linguistic compass that it should be. When
one considers that every year new words appear in the English lexicon, it does
not take much imagination to see how far behind isiNdebele is.
There is a list of words I used in the
translation, Siqondephi Manje? which
should have found their way into the siNdebele dictionary by now. I will give a
couple of examples. It is a good thing that we have in Isichazamazwi sesiNdebele (2001) words that address technological
advances such as “imeyili” (e-mail) (p.140). Missing are words “imeseji” or
“i-esemesi.” We also have to think of new orthographies. Whereas before we did
not have nouns with two vowels following each other, now we do. I suggest a
space between the two vowels. Another example of such a word would be “i-oyili”
(oil). Perhaps because of a lack of such facility, Isichazamazwi sesiNdebele (2001) has the entry “oyila” (to oil)
(p.348) but no entry for the noun. Similarly, there are words such as
“khasitoma” (customer) (p.125) and “phasipoti” (passport) (p.193). Much as I
appreciate the siNdebelerisation of these words by insisting on the initial
“i”s in both words, the resultant words do not reflect how they are usually
pronounced. We say “iphaspoti” and
“ikhastoma.” Similarly, all speakers of isiNdebele know “ifriji” (fridge). Hardly anyone refers to it as “ifiriji” as
that becomes a chiShona pronunciation once we insert an “i” after the “f.”
Another similar situation obtains with the word “phethuro” (petrol) (p.192).
When pronounced with a “u” the word sounds like chiShona. In any case, everyday
pronunciation of this word is minus the “u” to give “phethro.” In direct speech, this is how I have written
such words in Siqondephi Manje? (2014),
to capture how they are pronounced.
Other words that should have gone into the
lexicon by now include “irali” (a rally), given that we already have entries
such as “irakhethi” (tennis racket) (p.200). Words like “shayina” (to polish or
to show off), iphikhinikhi, (picnic), diza (pay a bribe), “irayothi” (riot),
“i-intanethi (internet), “isikulufizi” (school fees), “idriphu” (drip) – after
all we have words such as “diritsha” (move in reverse) –“glu” (glue),
“ok’sijini” or “okisijini” (oxygen).
One of the
charges levelled at Siqondephi Manje?
(2014) at the ZIBF workshop and the launch of the book was that it was a
bastardisation, dilution and corruption of isiNdebele. I am using just a few of
many words that were uttered to register unhappiness, concern and in some
cases, outright dismissal. Interestingly, these judgements came from people who
had not read the translation.
Even if they
had, it was apparent, from a show of hands that the majority did not have Isichazamazwi sesiNdebele (2001) and if
they did, they were not using it at all. On what basis then, were they making
their judgements and prescriptions? Who or what had empowered them to make
those pronouncements? All kinds of answers explain the kind of entitlement I am
describing, except scholarly argument. Here, I am reminded of a comment made by
one of the participants, author Godfrey Muyambo. Talking of some of the
difficulties of publishing in isiNdebele, he cited how one’s surname, and he
gave his as an example, together with the fact that he is known to be of Venda
origin, has always been a disadvantage. Even where he did manage to publish his
works, they would get attacked at a personal level, to a point where students
in the exam would attack Muyambo as a least fit person to write ‘proper’
isiNdebele because of his background.
In the end, we have exam responses that are
not engaging with the text on its merits but the supposed unsuitability of the
writer to write isiNdebele. Thus, we
have a caucus of people who imagine they are the custodians of the language who
sadly, do not do much research and are set in their ways. But a language, and I
did make this point at the launch, belongs to all the people who speak it and
there should be healthy and informed debates instead of “dictatorships” founded
on seniority, family name and other spurious
claims
Not
surprisingly, Siqondephi Manje?
(2014) was discussed by some purists in relation to the 2013 Zimsec isiNdebele
examination. The examinations council
was accused of killing isiNdebele, insulting the Ndebele people by portraying
them as a people who love using vulgar or “gutter language” (Mpofu in Southern Eye, 25 October 2013). Ironically,
most of those who complained about the “bad” examination paper had not seen it,
let alone read it. Some went as far as signing a petition without reading the
Grade 7 paper. Isaac Mpofu, veteran isiNdebele writer, registered his discontent
about the Grade 7 isiNdebele paper and concluded, “Our desire is that our
children learn to speak good Ndebele language within the context of our
culture” (Mpofu in Southern Eye, 25
October 2013). Indeed, the Grade 7 paper works towards that end.
For the benefit
of those without access to the examination paper in question, there are two
situations that caused all the brouhaha.
The first is a passage that captures touting for a fifteen-seater public
taxi, popularly known as a kombi, as well as taking a ride in the same vehicle.
The aim is clearly to alert pupils to varieties of isiNdebele, including slang.
The tout asks a traveller, “Yeyi baba[1]
uyahamba ngapho?” (Yeyi there baba, are you going to town?” to which the men the question is directed at
indicates that he is indeed going to town. The tout then turns the driver and
says, “Misa jeki[2]
utopi[3]
uyahamaba” (Stop the car jeki, the topi is going to town.) When the tout
addresses the man, he uses language that will not offend someone of the man’s
age. He does show some respect. When the tout turns to talk to the driver who
is his age mate, there is code-switching and slang comes in. No one can deny
that this is a typical conversation between a tout and a potential passenger
and then tout and kombi driver. The rest of the passage is written in beautiful
siNdebele, with not one more slang word. The point was to show that Ndebele
does have varieties in its spoken and written form, including slang; that the
language is alive and creative. One is reminded of why languages such as
English even have dictionaries of slang as well as of synonyms. What controls
language use or diction is context. A puritan attitude towards certain forms of
the language is tantamount to the English expression of shooting oneself in the
foot. At worst, it is a display of sheer ignorance concerning principles of
language and language use.
The second
instance that seems to have invoked the ire of commentators like Mpofu need not
have done so at all. Mpofu writes how isiNdebele is a language that shows a lot
of respect. The sub-heading of that section
with the word “likhikhitha” (is a prostitute/ woman of loose morals) instructs
the students: “Phana ibala elihloniphayo endaweni yaleli elidwetshwe umzila”
(Give a euphemistic term in place of the underlined word). That question is
teaching pupils to use respectful words in place of less respectful ones. Words
like “umangumba” and “yisifebe” are already euphemisms compared to the stronger
form, “iwule” (slut, prostitute) which is not used in the question. To claim
that twelve and thirteen year olds have never heard these words is to be
dishonest, to put it mildly. With regard to Siqondephi
Manje? readers will find words such as
“hlanza” (vomit), “izibunu” (buttocks) and others like them. These words
are not used gratuitously. Using
euphemisms in their place would have distorted the tone and meaning of some
stories resulting in a stilted and terrible translation.
Let us take
“izibunu” (buttocks). It is common to hear people say of children with
inadequate clothing, “abantwana bahamba ngezibunu egcekeni” (children wear
worn-out clothes that show their buttocks). Likewise, “olezibunu ezinkulu
ngolezibunu ezinkulu; ongalazo kalazo” (whoever has big buttocks is said to
have such and the same for small or smaller buttocks) – that is how Ndebele
people speak without any profanity implied in most contexts. I am thinking specifically about events and
contexts in the stories contained here.
For example, an angry character should appear as such through the
language he or she uses. Needless to say
the language should suit that character.
As a translator, one of my key duties is to make sure that the
translation is as close to the original text as possible, having of course,
taken into account the cultural context of the Ndebele people. In any case, we
have in our families, those with a penchant for saucy language and older
persons seem to acquire a licence to utter obscenities at will. We need to be
honest about what we mean by Ndebele culture; which in the first place cannot
be represented by one person’s family or a clique of self-declared experts.
Similarly, isiNdebele differs from region to region.
The discontent
about the Grade 7 paper is instructive in the way it reveals some enduring and simmering
issues in Matabeleland in general. A
number of people at the launch expressed worry about the teaching of isiNdebele
by chiShona speaking teachers, some of whom only have a smattering of
isiNdebele. They asked what the Ministry of Education was doing about that
situation. Unsurprisingly, there was insinuation, in the discussion of the
Grade 7 examination, that the paper had been set by people whose first language
is not isiNdebele (possibly chiShona speaking?) hence the “poor” quality of the
language in the paper and also “insult” to the Mthwakazi nation. The more the
discussion unfolded, the more one realised that there was a conflation of
issues.
The obliquely
stated issues included unhappiness that chiShona speaking people now dominate
tertiary institutions (see also http://www.universityworldnews.com/article. Accessed 22
February 2014), government departments and other areas of work at the expense
of the isiNdebele speaking populace. These issues are tied to slow development
in the province and the memory of Gukurahundi. All these are legitimate
issues. Their crystallisation results in
a rather extreme form of nationalism that wants to insist on “purity” of
identity, privileging amongst other things, language.
To that end, Felix Moyo urged Ndebeles: “protect your language,” at the ZIBF
workshop. Similarly, a young contributor passionately declared: “We are
compromising too much. Mina ngifuna isiNdebele sabokhulu.” (I want the
isiNdebele of my forefathers). While I understand these strong sentiments, I
hope those who utter them realise that they are inimical to language growth;
that in fact, they contradict the discourse of pride in one’s language. I also
hope that for purposes of growing isiNdebele, we can separate issues and zero into
the singular task of analysing the language and finding ways of making it more
expressive in its written form.
It was thus
heartening to note that Pathisa Nyathi, celebrated historian and one proud of
his Ndebele heritage, stressed the need for flexibility regarding isiNdebele at
the launch of Siqondephi Manje?
(2014). He warned of an accelerated demise of isiNdebele in the absence of
open-mindedness, adaptability and creativity. From the younger audience, some
also lauded the translation as the kind of work in isiNdebele they would easily
identify with and enjoy. After listening to some readings from the text, a
group of pupils asked how they could write similar language as they had heard
from the readings and not be penalised by teachers. In short, they were
attracted to the language and style in the writings. One of the key aims in the
writing of isiNdebele is exactly that – to capture and captivate a younger
audience. This can be done by writing relevant stories using a mixture of
“classical” isiNdebele and a contemporary version of the language. It is a
commendable thing to note that the book can also be bought on line. But what
will make people buy the book is not its migration to a technological space but
its quality. The same applies to future texts of isiNdebele. What will
recommend them is quality. At the
moment, that quality is low but Siondephi
Manje? (2014) is a significant effort towards improving the quality of
written isiNdebele. One speaker at the ZIBF said he appreciated the effort that
had gone into Siqondephi Manje (2014)
but felt that Ndebeles were “not ready for this kind of writing.” Those who
will read the book will find that Ndebeles have always been ready “for this
kind of writing” – it is an honest linguistic and cultural interpretation; it
is a mixture of the old and the new – just the way it should be.
It is clear that
we need more fiction in isiNdebele and that fiction had better be of good
quality – exciting and inspiring to both younger and older readers. That is
also how you grow a crop of inspired writers. As things stand, there is first
and foremost a dire need for a robust dialogue and debate about isiNdebele
language and lexicon. What is needed is a creative standardisation process. Our
university professors in this subject are quiet and have been for a long time.
Equally important, we need to have at school and university levels, courses on
creative writing in indigenous languages.
Times change and
so do people and their languages. That is how English grew – borrowing words
and quickly incorporating them into the English lexicon. Some people say
isiNdebele is dying. What I agree with them is that we have a dearth of books
in the language, publications of such being too few and far between. But the
language itself is very much alive and vibrant.
A language that grows is one that is in constant and creative use,
whose lexicon evolves with time. In its written form, such a language should
reveal the creativity of the people who speak it and in particular, the novel
ways in which those people capture experiences.
Once this is achieved, it will inspire other writers to be even more
creative.
+ + Thabisani Ndlovu is with the Wits Centre for Diversity
Studies, University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. This is an abridged version
of a paper based on Zimbabwe International Book Fair (ZIBF) Workshop – 28 March
2014, and launch of Siqondephi Manje?
Indatshana ZaseZimbabwe (2014), 29 March 2014. Contact: Email:Thabsndlovu@gmail.com
