Siphiwo Mahala

It's a fascinating read from a young author in South Africa. A novel which may not convince as much as recently praised literary attempts, such as The quiet violence of dreams, Duiker and Welcome to our Hillbrow, Mpe (two other ground-breaking novels from young authors who unfortunately both died), lacking as it does in the department of lingual versatility and expressive power, but which nevertheless adds importantly to a growing body of serious new local publishing from South Africa.

Mostly, I found the characterisation too shallow. The main character, Themba Limba, a schoolteacher promoted principle and then demoted again, as a result of his immoral meanderings, remains too much of a 'symbolic person', one who can perhaps stand for a whole generation or society of men, but whose actions often seemed strange to me and hard to believe on an individuel and psychological level.

One could suggest that I simply could not 'plug into' the South African reality of it, but that is too vague for me (especially knowing I've been there quite a few times, it's no abstract place for me). Also, even though I can accept that there is a South African literary style at work here, a kind of parabel story-telling that is less prominent in Europe these days - and one which I feel should be appreciated for its bold aspiration - in the end I simply could not be seduced by it.

But there are certain qualities to the book as well. Here is a very young writer who is familiar both with the modern literary idioms and oral reproduction of history and community conscience, who is able to interweave the obvious complexities and contrasts of a South African reality, and who can talk about a township world from the inside. On top of this he seems to have enough self-confidence, intellectual objectivity and restraint to allow himself a personal and critical look. In a general sense, this daring ability, as well as ambition, is something to admire in Mahala. And at times it even leads to exciting bouts of writing.

On the whole, this is by no means a perfect novel. But it does succeed in turning your mind to important issues, and brings you to look at them upside down, left right. Therefore, it is my suggestion that a second novel might be worth our wait. And when it comes - Mahala a more experienced writer, his topics more coherent - I expect it to surpass 'When a man cries' sublimely.… (meer)

When a man cries is a book about the faults, immaturity, immorality, and emotions of flawed men in the townships of South Africa. The book follows the adult life of Themba Limba through his highs as a school teacher in the township, his promotion to principal and his election to a local governmental position, and his many many lows (i.e. the things that make him cry).

In reality, the books highs and lows intertwine through out the book. For example, at the height of Themba’s academic career, he has sex with one of his students who has come over to discuss something with him. What she wants to discuss, Themba doesn’t completely know, but he assumes, since he is such an important member of the community that she “she had something intimate to share”. Also, earlier in the book, Themba has the opportunity to hire a new teacher for a post at his school. Who does he hire? A woman who he wanted to sleep with in university. Further, while he has the governmental post, he pays half the rent for a flat for the mayor’s secretary, because he fancies her. This despite the fact he is married with children. To sum up, at every turn, Themba uses his power to get his sexual conquests and ultimate desires.

There are a few twists in turns in this book, and with these come many holes. Firstly, the student he has sex with turns out to be his daughter (earlier in the book he has sex with his aunt, who, apparently gives birth to the child while in prison for hiring her lover to kill her husband, Themba’s blood uncle). The girl was actually seeing Themba’s wife, a social worker in the township; wouldn’t she had said something about Themba being her Dad to Themba’s wife? Further, many of Themba’s sworn enemies, like his wife who wants him to take a HIV test and a local freedom fighter who despises him, ultimately forgive him in the end of the novel, simply because Themba apologizes to them and cries. Does Themba ever take the HIV test? Did he truly feel guilt for his transgressions? The author doesn’t leave the characters enough depth for the readers to ponder this, but it seems doubtful.… (meer)