Dambudzo Marechera and Shona Sculpture:

"Either you are a writer [or artist] or you are not. If you are a writer for a specific nation or a specific race [or tribe], then fuck you."
Dambudzo Marechera in Flora Veit-Wild (1988)

Jonathan Zilberg, Ph.D. Center for African Studies University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Introduction
One scene has always stood as iconic of Marecheras anarchistic and self-defeating expressive nature. It was the smashing scandal at the award dinner for The Guardian Fiction Prize. Dambudzo, dressed in a deliberately incongruous red poncho, yelling about injustice in Rhodesia, began tossing bottles of wine and China plates at the chandeliers to the shock of the bourgeois establishment. 1 I loved him for that stupid drunken act of futile resistance. In my mind, Baudelaire and Rimbaud, kindred presences, hovered above, roaring with laughter. 2 As a symbolic anthropologist obsessed with the strange history of Shona sculpture, my inspiration is Marechera. Why? His sheer originality, his energy, anger and brute creative honesty inspired me in my own futile quest to mock the lies, largely accepted as historical fact, invented by a white man, to smash the foundations of his primitivist myth. What lies and whose? Frank McEwen, the nephew of Luciene Pissaro and first Director of the Rhodes National Gallery, created the fiction that Shona sculpture was a tribal tradition that had sprang magically forth from the bowels of Great Zimbabwe. 3 Instead, the inspirational connections to European and other African art history, whether it be, for instance, to Ruskin, Rodin and Van Gogh, Tristan Tzara or Henry Moore, to the ribald Cewa nyau and even further afield to Oyo Ekiti and Bali have been consistently denied as other white mens lies. This was the substance of my performance lecture on Saturday night at Oxford, to comment upon the wealth of data in the archives there and in London which reveal this extraordinary history. It was also the perfect stage with enough people interested in and knowledgeable about Zimbabwe to also serve my desire to thwart the conventional wisdom that there had been no local patronage of modern African art in Rhodesia. 4 But none of that is the subject of this chapter. What follows instead is a reflection on a question raised the next day during the panel discussion on the creative elements of the Marechera celebration. The question was this: What did the lecture-performance have to do with Marechera? Let me digress a bit to explain how my performance came about in the first place. Seduced by the turn to inter-disciplinary approaches that took place in the mid 1980s, I had long been interested in enacting a fantasy. How could I hold up as
1 2

See Habilla (2006). On the symbolists through post-modernism in literature, see Russel (1985). 3 See Zilberg (2001). 4 For instance, see Hamlyn (1970).

exemplary the force of Marecheras enquiring intellect and potent creativity against the predictable and uninspiring tribal kitsch that characterizes the post-independence Shona sculpture revival? How could I use Marechera to push at the boundaries of what we imagine as experimental and inter-disciplinary? What I needed was an intimate audience sufficiently attuned to Marecheras anti-essentialist radical spirit to understand the importance of his legacy to Zimbabwean creativity beyond the realm of literature. This conference provided the perfect context for delivering a creative critique of the sort that academia necessarily refuses in the staidness of the university lecture, seminar or conference paper, especially in the academic press. Perhaps you begin to see why Marechera matters so much to me. The Sculpture That Bounced The performance was one of several other artistic engagements with Dambudzos corpus held during the conference, the others being more directly based on his work and in the form of films, plays and readings. Mine was intended as a provocative professorial lecture on Rhodesian art history. The point was to demonstrate that Marecheras radical creativity had antecedents in Zimbabwean history. I did so through introducing a few highly creative deceased Zimbabwean visual artists whose lives and work spoke to Dambudzos in one way or another. After the deliberately theatrical performance-lecture, Dambudzos drunken ghost was to enter specter-like. He was to approach me as Stanley to Livingstone, exclaiming excitedly: Ndizvozvo, ndizvozvo thats it, thats it! In exchange for his beer, he was to take from me the shiny Shona sculpture which had been ceremoniously spot lit during the lecture upon a pedestal front-stage. It was a pair of lovers performing fellatio, which Dobrota had found in a store window in Oxford. Admiring it with irony, ready to take the shit out of it and his audience in his usual way, Dambudzo was to concur. He was to slur gravely about the creativity and excess of the artists who had come before him, namely Kingsely Sambo and Joseph Ndandarika. Then holding the lovers upon high, Moses-like, he was to aggressively step towards the audience and drunkenly bellow his triumphant iconic curse, the modified epigraph for this chapter: "Either you are a writer [or artist] or you are not. If you are a writer for a specific nation or a specific race [or tribe], then fuck you." And suddenly, just as the lights went out, Dambudzo was to smash the subject with all his might, that is, a Shona sculpture. At least that was the script. But instead of exploding into smithereens, the sculpture bounced harmlessly off the plinth and thudded across the stage into the audience. Collective laughter. Another of Dambudzos jokes. The obvious point was to use Marechera to deliver a critique of the kitsch value and nationalist tribal rhetoric of Shona sculpture, essentially a tourist art form whatever its lovers say. Yet the real purpose behind the smashing for this audience was something completely different though it seems it failed in this - just as the sculpture had bounced. My intention was to use shock to speak memory. I wanted to viscerally remind people of The Guardian awards ceremony, that singular public moment which foretold Marecheras impending doom despite his sudden rise to literary fame. 5 Apparently, neither message came through. Hapana nhamo no problem. Lets try again.
5

See Habila (2006).

The most productive aspect of the conference in my experience was the chance for the performers and artists to discuss their work in response to questions from the audience in a frank and lively panel on Sunday morning. There, Flora Veit-Wild pointedly asked me what my presentation had to do with Marechera, if anything. Caught completely off-guard, as I had assumed it so obvious as to accord no explanation and particularly because I had thought the abstract provided in the conference materials, and on-line still, made it as clear as vodka, I simply said nothing. Speak Memory: The Power of a Photograph

Marechera at home, Harare, 1988. Ernst Schade It was in 1988 during my preliminary doctoral research that I first came across Dambudzo Marechera's inspirational work by way of that fine glossy booklet by Flora Veit-Wild and Ernst Schade, Dambudzo Marechera: 4 June 1952-18 August 1987 (Harare: Baobab Books, 1988). I was intrigued by the intimate photograph of Dambudzo in his study in Harare. There behind him on the window-sill was a small and classic Shona sculpture, either a man or a baboon or one changing into the other. Shining cold and black as coal against the sunlight, it is the sole instance as far as I know in which Marechera can be placed in the same context as Shona sculpture. But why was this so interesting to me? Because I had quickly found out that black Zimbabweans (as most white Rhodesians before them except for a small cultural elite) have little interest in Shona sculpture, at least in terms of buying it. As chance would have it, I soon thereafter met Flora and Ernst at the Tengenenge sculpture village. Naturally, I immediately asked Ernst if he knew what the sculpture in the photograph might have meant to Dambudzo. Ernst laughed and said something like this: "Oh, Dambudzo felt that Shona sculpture was just something for white men" though if I recall correctly - his words were much stronger than that. I do remember that he specifically added that this sculpture had meant nothing to Dambudzo in and of itself except that it had been given to him by the eminent Shona sculptor Bernard Takawira as a

token of respect from one Zimbabwean artist to another. Needless to say this was not surprising to me. Later that day, Ernst bought a small sculpture and asked me what I thought of it. I loved it. It was a wonderful little stone sculpture, completely original and full of potential - a faun-like boy masturbating by Square Kambeyo, then an adolescent. It was an inspirational conversation piece and a most unusual Shona sculpture. Why? Because it had energy and expressive power and because there was nothing stolid about it. More-so, it was significant because Square was of Malawian Cewa descent as were so many other of the original so-called Shona sculptors. More importantly though, considering Marecheras proclivities and provocative nature, Ernsts slightly ribald acquisition may have been a more apropos gift for Dambudzo had he still been alive. But to return to the sculpture that bounced, the elemental point here is that very few black Zimbabweans have ever bought this type of iconic semi-abstract Shona sculpture What ordinary black Zimbabweans do however sometimes buy, typically for Valentines Day or Christmas gifts, are the happy family and lover sculptures known as abstracts. Yet this is the art that is considered to be the absolute antithesis of real art in the Shona sculpture market. 6 But I did not smash the lovers sculpture to make a point about art versus craft, as also came up in the discussion. Sometimes I simply smash such sculptures of lovers and happy families because it feels good. I think Dambudzo would have appreciated the smashing whatever it communicated, even if nothing. But yet we should still ask: Does that photograph of Dambudzo and that sculpture on his window sill have any potential relevance to an interdisciplinary discussion of the legacy of his work, that is for modern Zimbabwean visual art? 7 I believe it does particularly if one keeps in mind those two similarly iconic lines by Marechera. All these years their anti-nationalist, anti-essentialist sensibility has sung out to me like an anthem. In short, of all Dambudzo's voluminous and inspiring work, it is this crude declamation that most clearly speaks for me of his memory and relevance, at least for my own work. . Dambudzo Marechera, Kingsley Sambo and Joseph Ndandarika: Social Misfit Murdered Mission Rebel Fake Shona Wizard Returning to Floras query and my initial minimalist response, I did however go on to add that the point of the staged history lesson had been to demonstrate that there had been similarly radically creative and complex modernists in Zimbabwe before Marechera. Not only were they similar in their all-consuming pleasures in excess, they were deeply interested in and aware of European modernism. Similarly, their works defy any simplistic categorization as mere African artists. 8 Take, for instance, my late fiendish friend Joseph Ndandarika and one of my late mothers favorite artists, Kingsley Sambo, Cyrene Missions gifted Rebel murdered during the liberation struggle. As with Marechera, they too came from the Rusape area, and lived and died on the wild side. Kingsely Sambo grew up in the 1930s in Rusape before moving to Salisbury, and was inspired by cowboy western movies and cartoons. He had a precocious talent. After
6 7

See Zilberg 2006b. See Huggins (1996). 8 See Zilberg (2006a).

studying with Canon Paterson at Cyrene mission near Bulawayo, he became a successful cartoonist. Sambo went on to enjoy considerable success with the Daily News in the late 1950s and early 1960s before it was banned. Earning good money, he indulged his passion for jazz, painting female nudes, smoking mbanje and drinking whisky and beer with his fellow artists in Highfields. Not surprisingly, the Canon eventually had to relieve Sambo of his teaching position at Nyarutsetso. He returned to his home near Rusape where he continued to paint. In his scenes of bustling township life and dance halls, his accomplished landscapes, pink and blue black nudes and Van Gogh-like self portraits, he was a kindred elder spirit to Marechera. 9 Beyond their procilivites and the subject matter of some of their work, they shared a stark originality, a fierce individuality and a passionate intellectual interest, respectively, in European art and literature. They enjoyed studying the lives and works of other artists and were interested in what they could take, T.S. Eliot-like, from other traditions. As for the late Joseph Ndandarika, partly of Cewa descent as in Kambeyos case, he was first introduced to art at Serima Mission as a child. He moved to Salisbury where he became the youngest and most radically creative member of the Workshop School set up by the Director, Frank McEwen. There, at the Rhodes National Gallery, he woulod come to be portrayed as a former wizards apprentice who could turn ropes into snakes before he gave up magic for art. He was a mischievous character playing with modernist devices and tropes of the tribal to great ironic effect. Sadly, this irony escaped many people, including his youngest understudies. As a result, the purveyors of the Shona sculpture mystique were misled into portraying him as a magician revealing cultic secrets. Joseph lived for the long hours he daily spent at the bar and particularly for the ladies there. He was at his best when creative and provocative. Take the time as a young artist in the 1960s when he came across an unusual piece of black and white serpentine. What to do? He made a pair of lovers, a black man on the bottom, a big fat white lady on top. McEwen adored it and claimed he had to save it from the Rhodesian government who commanded it destroyed as subversive. In my mind, this is a rare instance of Shona sculpture making a sexual and political statement in stone and one that Marechera would have appreciated. The more important point here however is this. Joseph Ndandarika and Kingsley Sambo were intimately familiar with modernism. Both this awareness and their works modernist affinities were emphatically denied to create the Shona sculpture myth. Imagine any account of Marecheras life and work in which his interest in and awareness of Western literature was expunged for the sake of creating a tribal identity to enhance his marketability. Imagine not considering the importance of his influences, passions and excess. Marechera was similar to Sambo and Ndandarika in many more ways than one. As precocious modernists and cosmopolitan flanneurs, they enjoyed city lifes fallen pleasures. Their creative expressions were born of this passion and excess. Naturally, there were also illuminating differences. Unlike Dambudzo, Joseph arguably sold out his creative genius to purloin classic Shona chic, devilishly playing the primitivist game. Yet in this playful spirit, he was also just like Dambudzo. For, as Elleke Boehmer commented in referring to Marecheras psychedelic cannibal scene, he would have loved the fact that
9

On Rhodesian African painting, see Huggins (2001) and McLoughlin (1997). For township images, see Vera (1999).

the Marechera play rehearsed for the celebration had failed to materialize: He was always taking the piss out of everything. In any event, they all died prematurely and unpleasantly, particularly Sambo. He was murdered for being a sell out, his beloved sports car a symbolic funeral pyre, his dismembered body and scattered dry bones refused burial. For Marechera, death itself saved him from the ignomity of having to accept the disciplinary conditions and sober sanity required to play the game. By the time he was ready to capitulate, it was too late: his bridges had already been burnt to ashes by his own condition. Thus whether condemned to early deaths by passion, madness, murder or AIDS, it was their shared Dionysian tendencies which had fueled their creativity and eventually led to their demise. Like Marechera, Sambo was a deeply serious and in his own way disciplined artist. He never sold out, except once. That singular specimen, a primitive tokolosh (playful evil spirit) figure in wood is now hiding in the dark in the British Museums remote storage unit. 10 In all this, the purpose of the performance lecture was to bring attention to the fascinating materials on modern Zimbabwean art history to be found in London and Oxford. Indeed, several members of the audience came up to me later to thank me for that and for the history lesson. Conclusion Dambuzo Marechera was the first African author to have received the honor of being awared The Guardian Fiction Prize. He splendidly spurned it. My intention was to jar the memory of that pivotal moment in his life in the bodies and minds of those present who might also have been at the original event. For others who had heard of the event but had not been there, I had hoped that they would instantly recall it in a sensory way. Indeed, most younger Zimbabwean artists, writers and fans have never heard about the award ceremony scandal. Accordingly, the purpose of the final part of the performance was to recall that all- symbolic moment in his life. Beyond that, why does Marechera matter to modern Zimbabwean creativity beyond the realm of literature? I believe that Marecheras writing, admittedly only one line of which I have referred to, has an acute significance because he was completely and consistently original and because his legacy celebrates resistance against any overdetermination of the subject. There, he, Sambo and Ndandarika serve as creative beacons. 11 To honor that legacy we need creative conference celebrations such as this, failed beggars balls.

Acknowledgements I am grateful to Dobrota Pucherova and the Department of English at Oxford for the opportunity to attend the Marechera celebration, to her and Julie Cairnie for the editing of this paper, to Joanne Morgan for playing the part of Dambudzos ghost, and to
See Muncke (1997), Zilberg (2006c) See Huggins (1996, 2001). For the theoretical background behind the smashing of the sculpture during the performance, see A New Theory and Method for the Study of Tourist Art: The Case of the Flow or Happy Family Genre in Zimbabwean Shona Stone Sculpture, Zilberg (2011).
11 10

Luke Yiu and the other students at Oxford who served as production assistants. I thank Ernst Schade for the photograph of Dambudzo that has been included here and for his thoughts on Shona sculpture and Dambudzo at Tengenenge in 1987. I also thank Flora Veit-Weld for her critical comments which inspired me to restate the case of Marecheras relevance more forcefully here.