Franschhoek during the FLF
At FLF (photo: Maryam Adams)
“She doesn’t want to be. She is,” Thobeka Yose said in response to a woman who attended “Signs of a struggle”, one of the Saturday sessions of this year’s edition of the Franschhoek Literary Festival, which spanned the weekend of 17 to 19 May. That was the moment when our tears spilled over after an already emotionally charged discussion between Yose and Sara-Jayne Makwala-King, whose remarkable insights and empathy held us throughout the session. The woman in the audience spoke about a grandchild who is transgender. She was asking Yose how to deal with the reality of this fact that she was struggling to understand. “Love your grandchild,” Yose said. Her advice was echoed by the child and adolescent psychiatrist Dr Simon Pickstone Taylor, who was with us in the room. For me, it was the most moving event of the festival, not only as Thobeka Yose’s publisher, but simply as a human being in the presence of someone who has lived her life with inspiring humility and grace in the face of many stumbling blocks and was prepared to share her experiences with others. Yose chronicles her incredible journey through childhood trauma, widowhood and parenting a transgender child in her memoir, In silence my heart speaks, which debuted in Franschhoek.
Sara-Jayne Makwala-King and Thobeka Yose
Thobeka Yose with a festival goer
This year’s excellent programme was put together by Jennifer Ball, who has brought her passion for literature, local and beyond, to the role of programme director. The festival offered a wonderful balance between purely literary topics and state of the nation events, with readers having the opportunity to rub shoulders with the likes of Thuli Madonsela, Ivan Vladislavić, Justice Malala, Barbara Boswell, Mark Gevisser, Craig Higginson and Caster Semenya, among many other greats. International guests included Pip Williams, Cecelia Ahern, Troy Onyango and David Walliams.
Jennifer Ball
Opening of the FLF
Pip Williams, Craig Higginson and Barbara Boswell speaking to Batya Bricker
The need for both types of engagement – literary and sociopolitical – was palpable, especially now when South Africans were heading for the polls and marking 30 years of democracy in the country. But the celebrations felt subdued, perhaps because so much is at stake again. The fragility of our world – political, social, economic and environmental – is overwhelming. We crave and create beauty to fill our battered hearts and strengthen our resilience. As readers, we turn to literature to shine a light on a possible path ahead. Despair is not an option.
I saw a clearly moved Africa Melane in the Green Room after his interview with Semenya. “We got a standing ovation,” he said. “It was all her, of course, but what an honour to be part of a session like that.” He was glowing from the experience. It was one of many events I had wished to attend, but the bountiful schedule meant that no matter how you planned, you were going to miss out on something. Thank goodness the books we took home with us from the festival can transport us back into these spaces and allow us to continue the conversations at our own leisure.
With Anna Hug in the audience
I was lucky enough to be part of another standing ovation at the festival, which now includes a cinematic component and hosts screenings of local films based on our stories. I had seen That’s what she said when it first aired on M-Net last year, but to watch it again with a live audience in the Franschhoek Theatre was beyond special. The documentary opens with scenes from the stage adaptation of Tracy Going’s Brutal legacy, a memoir about the legacy of domestic violence, and proceeds to record frank conversations that followed between members of the theatre audience – an incredibly powerful dialogue about violence in our lives. Going was also part of the literary panel about rewriting the codes of South African masculinity with Andy Kawa, activist and author of Kwanele, enough!, and Joy Watson, one of the editors of Striving for social equity, a collection of personal essays on the obstacles which especially young people in the country confront every day. I think many of us wish that we could stop having all these conversations and stop having to try to survive amid the horrific chaos of violence all around us, but the reality is that we will have to keep fighting as long as toxic attitudes towards gender and sexuality continue defining how safe we are in the world.
Tracy Going, Andy Kawa and Joy Watson
During a Q&A after another screening – A home is not a house, a short film based on a story from Lester Walbrugh’s collection, Let it fall where it will – Walbrugh mentioned that as a gay man in South Africa, he struggles to feel at home in society, and that he finds belonging only in unconventional spaces which he has to seek out specifically. The screening sparked a lively conversation between him, director Earl Kopeledi and the deeply engaged members of the audience. To be part of this audience was another magical moment of the festival for me.
As was meeting Kobby Ben Ben after the most pleasurable session of the weekend. Ben Ben, Joy Watson and Busisekile Khumalo spoke to Letlhogonolo Mokgoroane about what it takes to write good sex scenes. Ben Ben’s debut novel, No one dies yet, includes some of the most deliciously and graphically explicit sex scenes I have encountered in fiction. And because they were penned by a queer Ghanaian writer who faces severe challenges in his country, where desire cannot be expressed freely, they felt even more liberating – even to me, a straight cis woman.
Letlhogonolo Mokgoroane speaking to Busisekile Khumalo, Joy Watson and Kobby Ben Ben
The heat of that particular session reflected the glorious weather which accompanied our weekend, which was infused with literary wonder, curiosity, hope, resilience and beauty – beauty above all. And yet, no matter how much I loved the sunshine, I couldn’t help thinking about the distressing dam water levels and the lack of rain in our region.
Kobby Ben Ben reading from No one dies yet
Kobby Ben Ben signing his novel for Lester Walbrugh
I chaired only one session this year, but it was one very close to my heart. I interviewed Karen Jennings and Nick Mulgrew, whose latest novels, Crooked seeds and Tunnel respectively, conjure unnerving, near-future versions of South African reality. In a recent article for LitNet, Jennings reflected on the global water crisis we are facing, with another potential drought on the horizon in the Western Cape. Her novel is set in a post-Day Zero Cape Town and tells the story of a broken woman trying to navigate the water queues on crutches. Mulgrew’s novel is set predominantly in an unexpectedly closed-up Cape tunnel, where a handful of characters try to survive a massive disaster. Reading both books, it was easy to imagine the horror of the described scenarios. At the same time, it was deeply reaffirming to encounter hope and tenderness in the connections the characters in the novels forge when dealing with the incomprehensible. This ability to reach out, to care, is often the only thing that will get us through the darkness – let’s not underestimate its power. The ability of these two young authors to share their remarkable storytelling talents is a gift to us all.
With Nick Mulgrew and Karen Jennings (photo: Nick Clelland)
With Nick Mulgrew and Karen Jennings
I don’t get a vote in the South African elections, but in life – globally – I vote for tolerance and integrity. Literary beauty offers both.
Exclusive Books booksellers
Also read: