Individualism in Blessing Musariri’s poetry

March 31, 2011 The freedom to express self is captured in the poem ‘Thursday at Lavigny’, where the poet catalogues the actions of each writer in this retreat, celebrating their individualism and creativity. Hugh goes to his “secret place”; the persona drinks wine in the noon sunshine; Donatella’s heart is in Paris; “Nagwa smokes a cigarillo and talks of Egypt”; and Huguette “dreams amidst birdsongs of lives past, in/ letters and diaries and books”. By naming each writer in the retreat, Musariri gives them shape and form, which underscores their individuality.

The poem ‘Journeys’ is also a quest for individual freedom. This is captured in the lines, “Not me,/ I’m moving out of vision, alone/– invisible again”. Here the persona emphatically declares that she is her own woman by rejecting the sameness that is typified by the “fifty, booted, sweatered, rucksacked group” of travellers, presumably on their way to some exotic destination such as the Serengeti or Kilimanjaro. A journey should be a liberating experience for the travellers, and yet, ironically, the vision we have of them is a motionless and faceless group trapped in a ”glass air-conditioned cage” , “asleep on bench, on bags, waiting”, indulging in idle chat and “killing time”. Unlike the clearly distinct and named individuals in ‘Thursday at Lavigny’, this amorphous group seems to be acting as if according to a script, and this is captured in the choppy phrases the poet uses to describe their actions: “Missed the signs, wrong stairs, wrong queue/ parting with cash for perfect fit . . . ” The poet rejects the herd mentality that is exhibited by these travellers. Musariri’s persona would rather be alone than be trapped in an environment where she cannot freely express her individuality.

The highest expression of individualism is conveyed in the poem ‘Night Rider’ (the title is reminiscent of the action-packed popular 1980s television series, ‘Knight Rider’ featuring the protagonist and his ‘talking’ car, Kit, conquering the bad people). The persona envies her sleeping companion because she cannot share in this individual and personal experience. This is captured in the lines “but suddenly you laugh and turn away, hand on your heart and a smile”. In sleep one goes through a world of adventure, fear and pleasure, but all on one’s own. To the poet, sleep is the height of individual expression because the outside world cannot intrude into this space.

However, the poet rejects the kind of freedom and individuality which the persona in ‘Popular Fiction’ desires. The persona is obsessed with her looks (her lips, her body and her waist) and material success (looking for love in a CLK). She thinks she can be ‘somebody’ by acquiring fame and material success, but the poet rejects this kind of quest as distasteful. The title of the poem underscores the false nature of this quest; it is ‘fiction’, and would, thus, lead nowhere. By alternating the poets’ voice and that of the persona, Musariri is able to deconstruct the persona’s quest and expose it as a sham. Everything about the persona is artificial and phony as captured in the poet’s description of her: “she draws on some eyebrows in black pencil/ lines her eyes/ shakes a mane of sixty-thousand-dollar hair/ from union street flea market”. The word “bullet”, which is repeated twice in the poem, is a reminder that the quest that the persona is embarking on is not only a charade, but it is also dangerous. Referring to her as “ghetto queen” is the poet’s sarcastic reminder that even though the persona might look attractive on the outside, she can never escape the ghetto that she so much despises. She is the ghetto and the ghetto is in her.

Movement and journeying are key motifs that run throughout all Musariri’s poems. Movement, either physically or spiritually is, in Musariri’s poetry, synonymous with both individual expression and freeing oneself from the spiritual aridity of this world. In ‘Filling in the Gaps’ the persona laments the stasis that characterises her existence. She wishes to be “wilful,/ wishful, a little wild, because people reserve the right to leave at any time and not care that you/ may not want to let them go”. She also wishes to “dance, move,/ from the inside out”, and instead of walking she “wants to fly”. Her act of wishing suggests that breaking away from convention is not an easy task. In a spirit of defiance, she declares “This earth cannot hold me” and that “nothing stays the same even that which doesn’t seem to change”. However, the persona is quick to acknowledge that moving away from the familiar will not “happen overnight” and that it involves “holding on, while letting go”. This oxymoronic wisdom implies that there is need for balance when one moves on. It could be argued that, whilst Musariri wants to completely free herself from the stifling conventions and norms that inform many a Zimbabwean writer’s work, she also acknowledges the vitality of holding onto some of these traditions. A writer without roots is radarless.

Musariri captures this sentiment in ‘A Poem I Wrote Standing Up – Indictment’, in which she reminds the reader that searching for a new identity does not mean shunning one’s roots. She castigates “Africans on distant shores” who claim to be proud to be Africans and yet are doing everything possible to obliterate their roots. They learn “ancient tongues” but forget theirs; they “camouflage . . . [their] origins” and “sanction . . . [their] memories of sun and hunger” and they teach their children to despise their roots. The oxymoron “hopeful hopelessness” underscores the futility of this self-hatred. This poem is a reminder to the reader that questing for a new identity will be an exercise in futility if one forgets one’s roots. One cannot, therefore, lay claim to an African identity when one eradicates everything African in one’s life. Similarly, one cannot claim to be a creative writer if one does not strike a balance between one’s self-expression and the conventions and norms existing in the literary world.

Permeating throughout Musariri’s poetry is the fact that “all things change except change”. The same sentiments are captured in the poem ‘Signs that you were here’, which underscores the transitory nature of human life. The message in the poem is that nothing is permanent. Existence is a journey and we are forever moving towards an inevitable finality. The diction used – “passing”, “loss”, “Long gone” – captures the sense of movement of time and loss. The tone is one of despondence. However, that brief experience which has now “become too cold” has given her some insight into the frailty of human life in general and love relationships in particular. Feelings of sadness, anger and regret are now replaced by mature wisdom regarding human existence. By setting “the room to rights" and by putting the “cup of half drunk tea . . . out of its misery” the poet seems to accept the inevitable truth that time waits for no one and that change will come whether we like it or not. Remaining still like the travellers in ‘Journeys’ is not an option.

In ‘Last Goodbye’, the persona indulges in some nostalgia of a world gone by. The nostalgia is captured in the persona’s words: “Do you remember that day? The hot tar, the long grass of the small field we cut across and the/ dust that clung to our feet as we threw that silver coin on the counter and called out for nigger/ balls –half a cent each – cheap sweets, dirty on our tongues”. The tone is regretful of the things and experiences gone by. However, as she reminiscences about her childhood, she comes to an understanding that much as she dislikes the changes that have taken place in the neighbourhood, she has to accept them and move on. We cannot hold time; change is inevitable. Besides, Musariri believes that we cannot completely eradicate the past. We carry it in us and it informs our vision of the world: “Here my mother still kneels and praises God for all she has lost and found. I still hear my aunt’s/ voice above all the others in the choir at the front, even though she now sings from Heaven.”

One can, thus, conclude that Musariri is a poet who rejects sameness and stasis. She refuses to follow convention in its entirety, but also acknowledges the importance of balancing one’s desire to be completely free of the existing literary traditions. Musariri’s poetry also underscores the need to accept that change is inevitable. We cannot stop time. This argument could be extended to mean that even in creative expression, one is subject to change. Rather than be trapped in the conventions and traditions of their art, writers should break free from the pack mentality and use their art to underline their individualism. Bevelyn Dube holds an MA in English from the University of Zimbabwe, where she taught for some years before moving to the University of Venda. She is currently teaching Media Studies while studying for her doctorate in Journalism with the University of Stellenbosch. She may be contacted on <Bevelyn.Dube@univen.ac.za>