By Mursi Saad El-Din In an earlier column I pondered the future of South African literature following the end of apartheid. Before the end of apartheid South African writers had faced a single theme that they ignored at their peril. Nor was it only black South African writers who felt the moral imperative to dissect the injustices of the system within which they were forced to live. The South African position was not unique: a similar crisis of content was felt by other, post-independence African writers. With no obvious enemy to attack, they were forced to look for new subjects. South African writers, like those from many newly independent countries, turned their attention towards local traditions and folklore. This is what happened in Egypt, for instance, when it won independence. Writers dug into local histories, reviving folklore and asserting a local, national identity. South Africans are now watching what has been described as the first African opera". The book of the opera is a plunge into the past. In it colonialists are attacked, but what is interesting is the form this production has taken. Opera, after all, is hardly an indigenous African form. It seems that however much we attack colonialism and imperialism, we cannot escape its influence. But to go back to the opera. It was premiered a week ago in Cape Town and was described by Liz McGregor of the Observer as "an exuberant mix of European and African musical traditions. Princess Magogo Ka Dinizulu is based on the life of a Zulu princess, daughter of King Dinizulu and the mother of the South Africa's current interior minister. The opera, according to McGregor, is a great success. Magogo falls in love with a man from her own tribe but her brother, now crowned king, persuades her to marry a dignitary from a rival clan in a political union. The opera, McGregor says, is "all sacrifice and duty for Magogo but she finds solace in her music and her role as custodian of her people's musical tradition". Going through the cast of the opera I could not help thinking of the western influence. The heroine, for instance, is a mezzo-soprano. The English critic who attended the performance describes the opera as "another sign of the artistic renaissance taking place as South Africa searches for a post-apartheid cultural identity. While the opera is 100 per cent African, it still celebrates its European influence, dwelling on the pain of the past, but also looks to a more hopeful future". Another cultural sensation currently wowing South Africa is Nothing but the Truth, a play by John Kani, a well known dramatist. The pay takes the life of Nelson Mandela as a pivot for the action. McGregor gives a summary of the plot: "Set in an African township it combines a catharsis of the past with a vision of the future." It is the story of a conservative librarian who has to bury his brother, a legendary ANC activist who has died in exile in London. In the play the ashes of the ANC activist are brought to South Africa by his daughter, "a funky young Londoner who knows nothing of her African roots apart from the nostalgic ramblings of her now dead father. The stage is thus set for hilarious clashes between patriarchal Africa and cool Britannia." Alongside this apparent clash of cultures there is yet an underlying theme. The librarian had hopes of becoming the first black chief librarian, a post that had in the past been monopolised by whites. The job, however, goes to a young former exile. The conflict between exiled activists and local freedom fighters was always part of national struggles. It was apparent in Algeria, and was also the case with Palestinians. The exiles always monopolised the best jobs. Both the opera and the play are signs of a new cultural impetus. Its independence brings contradictions and disappointme nts but also a rebirth of spirit. Such are the birth pang of democracy.
