By PHILIP OCHIENG
Posted Friday, June 14 2013 at 18:20
I read The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, a fictional title by the Ghanaian novelist Ayi Kweyi Arma, decades ago. But a small fact remains in my head about that title. The adjective “beautyful” is spelt with a “y”, not with an “i”.
I cannot remember why. But I know this: It is not
for nothing that a creative writer may make such a remarkable break with
customary use. The bet, then, is that, through it, Arma is trying to
make a point.
Another memorable example is found in the work of
another West African novelist. The noun “drinkard” in Amos Tutuola’s
title Palm Wine Drinkard does not exist in ordinary English. But Palm
Wine Drinkard is not written in ordinary English.
Tutuola often coins his own words, and with the
ease of Lewis Carroll in the poem “Jabberwocky” (in Alice Through The
Looking-glass).
Nigerian mother tongue
And Tutuola breaks English grammar with the joyful
abandon and scornful laughter of Okot p’Bitek in full flight in the
telling of an Acholi oral tale. But, in this way, Tutuola brings his
whole literary scheme into line with his Nigerian mother tongue and
culture.
What would have happened if a know-it-all editor
had changed drinkard to “drunkard” or simply “drinker” (the former being
one of the ordinary English words for a sot, a habitually drunken
person)?
In particular, if — in his self-righteous
ignorance — the editor had “corrected” the narration from the continuous
to the simple past tense, he would have ruined Tutuola’s whole
ethico-intellectual project.
To be sure, the ilk of Tutuola’s hero daily
consume a great deal of palm wine. On occasion, we even see them
staggering. Yet the image that emerges from Tutuola’s drinkards — and it
is never anything else but palm wine — is not that of alcoholics.
What Jennifer Kimani of Kenya’s Nacada condemns as
“drug and substance abuse” is not the target of Tutuola’s literary
salvo. Palm wine drinkards are what you might call “cultural drinkers”.
Moral message
For their drinking is always deeply intertwined
with the ethnic community’s daily work rhythm. It is the ritual unction
and magic with which collective work is inspirited and collective living
is cemented and celebrated.
It is certain — I reiterate — that, by coining the
adjective “beautyful” for his title, Armah is sending across a certain
social or moral or intellectual message. That is why it was disgusting
that, in an article in last Saturday’s Standard, the writer — or was it
perhaps the sub-editor? — “corrected” beautyful to beautiful in all his
mentions of Armah’s title.
But, if “beauty” — from the French adjective beau
and noun beaute — refers to a combination of qualities that delight the
senses and the mind, what combination would say is full of beauty
about any African state since independence?
Perhaps the answer to Armah is that, in UhuRuto,
the beautyful ones have just been born in Kenya. But, despite brilliant
signs, that remains to be seen.
philipochieng39@yahoo.com
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