"Nope, I haven't read much African literature.", I responded.
"oh you must read it Tshepo. You'll love it."
So Lesego brings me Coconut By Kopano Matlwa, I read it and Here we are...I want you to read this book for yourself. so we're not going to discuss story lines. I'm not going to tell you about it. I'm going to discuss how I personally relate to "Coconut". Shall we keep it short and sweet? That's how book reviews should be anyway. This is the first one I have written so here goes....
If you're an African girl that has not been called a coconut, well then I envy you. But then again you've probably been referred to as a "koko ya Setswana" meaning Tswana Chicken. As an African child I feel we carry so many burdens. An uncorrected political rivalry that no longer even concerns us. We're the casualties. Not the children that died in Soweto Riots of 1976 or the slaves of the 1619s. Cause they knew who they were. I'm not sure I do. How do I draw the boundary between being civilized or educated and being a coconut, brown on the outside, white on the inside?
Coconut is a story about an issue that many young African children today face. How do they relate? How do they go from their posh, English speaking schools and homes to their dusty mother-tongue speaking villages? How do they associate? I'm Tswana. My setswana is bearable but its not something I'm proud of. I cant read or write it. I spent my childhood being told "nare tshepo o bua sekgowa ka dinko", an expression in my home language that means you speak English like a white child. So I relate to Ofilwe, a character in the book. Who faces a difficulty fitting in. Not only in the home village set up, but in the posh school set up as well. Its like you go home and you're not black enough but you go to school and you're not white enough. Its a scary prospect not to be able to find a place of belonging. Its difficult. Because we all want to belong, somewhere, to someone. We want to be reminded that we're not alone. Someone is on our team. Because then we cant blame ourselves for our failure. Its a team thing write?
I don't know. Maybe I'm weird. Maybe. But I've come to accept this is a one woman mission. I'm not completely okay with not fitting in. Sometimes it bothers me. Sometimes I wish I had been good at playing "suna baby"and "batho safe"but I wasn't. I tried. I got laughed at. So I stopped trying. I found a place where I fit in. I found it in fictional characters, poetry and writing. Were I could write and the white kids couldn't correct my accent. I still have one you know. This book is brilliant because it reminded me that I'm not alone. a number of African children are faced with the dilemma of identity crisis.
For a further Book Review and About the Author Click Here.
