Rest in Peace, Brother Kgositsile
A Tribute by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o
When I heard the sad news of the passing on of my brother, Prof Willie Kgositsile, my first reaction was what? I shall never hear his joyous laughter again?
From the moment, I first met Prof Kgositsile in New York, USA, during his days of exile and dreams of home, I felt as if I had known him all my life. Later, in a moment of dreams turned reality, he received me in an apartheid free South Africa, for which he had fought all his life. We could not escape the irony: he was back home; I was now in exile from home. He welcomed me on behalf of himself and also as one of the leaders of the Congress of South African writers. He even arranged for my first meeting with Mandela in the ANC Offices in Johannesburg. Mandela was then Head of the party but not yet the President of the country. Kgositsile accompanied me on my tour of the country in support of the new democratic optimism.
Brother Kgositsile was Pan-Africanist through and through. Africa and the Black experience of life all over the world were always in his mind and his spoken words. Even today, in the USA, he is still revered as one of the leading members of the Black Arts Movement of the sixties alongside other black writers like the late Amiri Baraka, and the still living Sister Sonia Sanchez. On the Continent, he is revered as among the leading poets of Africa. In Kenya, they think of him as a Kenyan for the years he taught at Nairobi University. Wherever he was, under whatever conditions, his personality and talent always shone.
I think of Brother Kgositsile, I want to smile. When I read his poetry, I want to shout hope. When I think of his life and work, I want to live and fight and struggle for a more humane world. But most of all I want to celebrate life. For him, Celebrating life meant caring for it, fighting for its expansion to include the least among us. I believe that even now his spirit is watching us, urging us to celebrate life. There, with our other revered ancestors that include, Alex la Guma, Dennis Brutus, Bloke Modisane, Lewis Nkosi, Nadine Gordimer, Zeke Mphahlele, Mandela and Nkrumah, Kgositsile is being welcomed with the words:
For I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.
In his life and work, he fought for the rights of all peoples to adequate food, water, clothes and shelter, in deed for their right to light and joy, and his poetry voiced that vision.
His spirit of love and laughter and hope dwells among us. Thank you my brother.
KEORAPETSE KGOSITSILE: “THIS WAY I SALUTE YOU”, BEING A TRIBUTE TO A CONTINENTAL ICON BY OSITA EZELIORA
How does one begin to write a tribute to a leading African poet? The passing on of Poet-Scholar Keorapetse Kgositsile poses such a serious challenge. But, as the Igbo would say, “A family owns a cock, but the community owns its voice”. Given this enormous challenge, I have chosen to go through my personal archives, and somehow, I was able to identify one of the essays that capture aspects of his prodigious writings. For me, therefore, tribute about this great African poet is about celebrating life, not about mourning the dead. For, indeed, people like Poet “Willy” hardly die. Here, then, is a statement that precedes his eventual physical departure from the universe of humankind. THIS WAY, Sir, I SALUTE YOU!
*“Kgositsile;s ‘THIS WAY I SALUTE’ YOU takes its title from Mongane Wally Serote’s poem, “City Johannesburg”. In this poem, the identity of the black poet as well as those of the rest of the black peoples are subjected to clumsy searches for tiny pieces of papers or permits that sum up their earlier claims to “life”. But where, for Serote, the ‘Pass’ signifies an important mnemic site, and while the supposed salutation to the city of Johannesburg only rekindles memories of a paradoxical cosmopolis that lures and yet destroys the black people, Kgositsile’s notion of “salutation” is a significant departure from the traumatic narratives of the nation. Importantly, it corroborates Serote’s rhythmic proclamations of ‘departure’ and ‘return’ in History is the Home Address. Kgositsile, South Africa’s national poet-laureate is, unarguably one of the finest voices from the African continent. With such impressive contributions as Spirits Unchained (1969), For Melba (1971), My Name is Afrika (1971), Places and Bloodstains (1976), Heartsprints (1980), Freeword (1983), When the Clouds Clear (1990), The Present is a Dangerous Place to Live (1974), To the Bitter End (1995), and If I could Sing (2002), and so forth, it is a pleasant statement on his career that kgositsile has garnered an impressive number of literary prizes within Africa and beyond since 1969.
There is evidence that Kgositsile is a widely travelled poet-scholar. Not only has he the personal acquaintance of, and has maintained friendship with the best of African writers and scholars, his sojourn and teaching in a number of American universities also earned him the respect of many of the brightest minds of the American cultural community. Kgositsile is a poet in the best meaning of the concept. He is neither presumptuous nor prolix. His poetry is inspired and, yet, carefully constructed in the most ‘economic’ management of words. Written over a period of three decades, what seem obvious in Serote’s This Way I Salute You, are the possibility of laughter and a demonstration of an appreciative spirit even in the midst of trauma. The entire collection celebrates a number of the world’s cultural ambassadors, from Chinua Achebe, Es’kia Mphahlele, David Diop, Denis Brutus, Hugh Masekela, and so on. A man of culture, Kgositsile’s appreciation of the global cultural icons is not limited to literary artists, but also to musical icons and saxophonists. In Kgositsile’s poetry, then, memory also recollects the beautiful moments of our humanity, just as it laments “the turbid ebb and flow of human misery””.
For his interests in the African humanity, global humanity, South African rejuvenation projects and retrieval of cultural memories, “Bra Willy” shall always be remembered. My personal encounter with him in 2005 was an experience that remains in my memory forever because he proved to be more than a writer. He was a confident intellectual who frowned against “the criminal illiteracy”—to quote him—that defined most South African blacks especially in their apparent lack of awareness of their historical and racial oneness with the rest of Africans, north of the Limpopo. This way, Sir, I salute you. REST WELL GREAT POET! REST WELL GREAT THINKER!!
*AN EXTRACT FROM DR. OSITA EZELIORA’S ESSAY ON ‘POETRY AND RECOLLECTION IN SOUTH AFRICA AFTER APARTHEID’
Brother KGOSITSILE
This poet is not for mourning. Willie was a prince of Africa’s lyric realm. We came to know him at a time when a continent fought through history’s chains and illusory divisions towards a shared, vibrant identity. The median sector of the last century proved, for many of us, a season of discovery – discovering one another through a creative resolve that never did falter or diminish. All through the dark days of Apartheid, Bra Willie’s was among the most reassuring voices that the flame of the human spirit remained unextinguished, its creative pulse unattenuated. We were grateful for that, and even more grateful that we could celebrate that bond outside bondage, through many more years of unfettered convergence of creative minds.
The personal recollections are always the most persistent, implacable. As a being of unique mould, Willie’s warm humanity, a leprechaun of witty mischief, remains irreplaceable. Yes of course, intimations of loss have commenced, a mounting awareness of a void, and I send my deeply felt condolences to his immediate family, and to our extended clan in South Africa. While the loss is keen, the memories remain fresh, his passage a summons and stimulus for generations to whom the baton is progressively passed. May they prove worthy of their torch bearer, now Laureate Ancestor of the hereafter.
Prof Wole SOYINKA
Nobel Laureate