Boubacar Boris Diop, writer.
By Alicia Justo from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
The writer and journalist Boubacar Boris Diop (Dakar, 1946) does not consider himself a good novelist, but he does consider himself a specialist in literature. In his last job, A grave for Kinne Gaajonarrates the shipwreck of the ship Le Joola, the greatest maritime tragedy in history. Known for his demand for the use of Wolof in Senegalese literature and African languages for literature written on the continent, he is optimistic about a future in which we can speak of a “true African literature.”
It is a controversial concept, but what is African literature?
When we talk about European literature we usually refer to that of specific countries: Italian, German literature… However, we do not do so with African literature. African literature is the only one that exists as a concept and yet does not exist in itself. When we talk about it it seems that we are referring to a global literature and this is very inconsistent, because there are those from Senegal, Cameroon, Algeria, Kenya… We should talk about the literary field of African literature, which is seriously fractured for several reasons. Firstly, due to the linguistic differences between Anglophone, Francophone, Lusophone or Spanish-speaking literatures, in the case of Equatorial Guinea. The second fracture is the cultural one between North and Africa beyond the Sahara. Authors from Algeria, Morocco or Tunisia write African literature, but it has nothing to do with the rest. In fact, if we call some of them Africans they will not agree. This has given rise to what I often call the white southern African diaspora. In the south of the continent there are many very important white authors who were born there, in South Africa, and that is part of their identity, but they feel very separated from the rest of the continent. A white South African author is never going to be asked what he thinks of Africa, or why he thinks Africa is like that. His books are conceived from a Western and European point of view.
And there is also the question of native languages.
Of course, since there is almost no literature in our mother tongues. This is something that authors such as Cheikh Anta Diop or Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o mention. The first said that African literature in colonial languages is a literature of transition, that this period in which African literature is written in English, Portuguese or French is a short historical parenthesis from which we are going to emerge and that, when we do, Africans will begin to write in their languages. That moment will come and that will be when true African literature will be created.
For you it is more logical to claim literature from Mali, from Senegal…
Yes, just like it is done in the rest of the world. In Africa we have South African, Malian, Senegalese literature and, from time to time, with a certain objective of creating a community, we could talk about African literature, but not as a literature that shares a common essence, but rather as one that emerges from the point of view of the life of the continent.
Before colonization, were there books written in African languages?
There were authors who wanted to write in their languages and who did, like Bakary Diallo, a Senegalese who, in the 1960s, also published the first novel in French in Africa. But before that, he and other authors had already published in Wolof or Pular. If you wanted to publish something you went to a publisher, which recommended that we publish in English or French. If the authors expressed their desire to do it in Wolof or Pular, the publisher told them that they had lost their minds and that it could not be published in those languages because no one would want to read those books. The authors had to resign themselves and publish in French. The will and capacity existed on the part of the authors, but not the editorial possibility. Nor can we forget that from the 18th century onwards, African literature began to be written with Arabic characters, especially poetry or some essays on Islamic theology. There was also African literature written with Latin characters. Yes, there was African literature before colonization.
Why and when did you decide to write in Wolof?
I have always thought that I should write in my language, or at least I was aware of the anomaly of writing only in French. At home, my father had a large library. As a child I was very shy and didn’t have much of a social life, so I was isolated. This social void made me delve into literature. I spent all day reading. Later, at night, my mother told us stories and stories. I loved listening to her because I wanted to relive what she was narrating. From a very young age I discovered the power of signs through the books I read in French and, on the other hand, the power of the oral word through my mother’s Wolof stories. I think I was always predestined to write in these two languages and that’s how I felt. When I only wrote in French I felt that something was not right. In French I could capture and express feelings, but not as much as with stories. At the same time, I believed that I would not be able to write in my native language. That is the power of colonial alienation. Then the genocide took place in Rwanda and I went there. At that moment I discovered the direct involvement that France had in that. I am not saying that France was to blame, but that it was the fault of the Rwandan political class, who manipulated ethnic and identity issues. But they had the support of France. Why did they do it? Basically to preserve the French language. Rwanda is a French-speaking country, a former Belgian colony surrounded by English-speaking countries: Uganda, Tanzania, Kenya and Ethiopia. So France wanted to preserve its role in that region of the world and fight to protect its language. That is why he gave diplomatic and political support to Rwanda. After this I had a dilemma, because as a writer I already used French with some reluctance: it was the language of the colonizers and, furthermore, I was not able to fully express myself in French or transmit emotions and ideas as I would have liked. I remembered my mentor, Cheikh Anta Diop. At first it didn’t seem easy for me to write in Wolof. In fact, in my first novel in this language, which has more than 300 pages, I spent time verifying everything in the dictionaries, every word, the spelling… It took me between 30 and 50 days to complete this task, but after this first stage everything worked itself out. It is a real pleasure to write in my native language.
Would you ever like to write in French again?
In principle, no. But the main criterion right now for writing in one language or another is to listen to our body, our will, our desire. In what language do I want to write next? If it turns out to be the French one, great, I’ll do it. But I think it will never happen because I have become accustomed to Wolof and I cannot compare it with French.
Why do you think there are African authors who do not write in their mother tongue?
Not only are there many authors who do not write in their mother tongue in Africa, but there are many who think that it makes no sense to do so. I, as part of this group who do write in an African language, am aware that we are a minority and that is the power of colonial alienation. There are many Western intellectuals who established a discourse of marginalization for those languages and cultures. I don’t want to say all, but there are African intellectuals living in France who have lost the African language. I think it is a process of deculturation, as Cheikh Anta Diop indicated. However, I remain optimistic. We must become more aware of the problem, but I also believe that progress is always slow. In 30 or 40 years, Senegalese literature will have an abundance of writings in the country’s languages and literature in French will exist in a residual way.
Do you think there can be a vindication of French as an African language, perhaps as has happened in Latin America with Spanish, which has created its own register over time?
I lived in Mexico for two years and I realized how politically radical the Spanish colonization was, because in Mexico everyone speaks Spanish. In the case of France, the opposite happened. French was reserved for the colonial elite, for those who had access to an education in French. A consequence of this colonization was the creation of the educational system based on the French language. The gap between the language of education and society was enormous, the proportion of people who received that training was a minority. Of course, there were intellectuals who spoke French, but it is impossible for them to say that it is the language of their people. It is not an African language. As in any colonial process, world powers rely on the indigenous population for their propaganda, and this propaganda has also been carried out by some African intellectual writers in Senegal or the Ivory Coast, for example, who have tried to spread this discourse. In Mexico everyone speaks Spanish, but in Senegal very few speak French. How are we going to say that it is the language of our people if no one speaks it? Maybe foreigners don’t even realize it because when they go to Senegal they meet intellectuals or very specific groups of people, but if I speak to my family in French they won’t understand me. So no, it’s a resounding no. It is neocolonial propaganda spread by these sellout intellectuals who know perfectly well that this situation is not true and that they belong to a society in which French is not spoken, especially in Senegal.
How do you see the future of Africa in the coming years?
There is something that worries me and it is the presence of the West. It is clear that France controls French-speaking countries such as the Central African Republic, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger or Senegal. For example, uranium from Niger accounts for a high percentage of electricity in France, but France has lost that uranium. I say this because I think they don’t remember the importance of Africa. I’m afraid that they don’t reflect on all this that they can lose and what they have already lost. Korea, China or Japan are powers that (France) is not going to approach, so the only thing left is Africa. On the other hand, the United States is trying to leave the Western bloc and break ties with the West, which does not have sufficient military capacity to defend itself. Africa could be the prey of this whole situation and it scares me quite a bit.
France has withdrawn its military from many of its former colonies in Africa. Do you consider this measure sufficient?
No, because I believe that the tongue is a more dangerous weapon than physical weapons. The tongue is the currency and is much more dangerous than the soldiers. They withdrew the troops very quickly, but their language, their currency, and their economic power are still there. They know that Africa remains for a while.
The West is losing power in Africa and countries like Russia, Türkiye and Saudi Arabia are coming into play. How do you value this geopolitical game?
There are countries like Qatar that are not talked about much and whose ambitions regarding Africa are unknown. There is also Türkiye… In reality, the only fear is that they will support the West and ignore Africa. Regarding Russia, I think that in the West they have to stop thinking that their enemies have to be the enemies of the whole world. When Africa fought for its liberation or against apartheid, Russia and China were there supporting. France, however, contributed to the Rwandan genocide. The population has memory. This does not mean that we want to fall into the arms of anyone, but it is difficult for us to have the same vision as the West. The difference between France, Belgium, Portugal, England, Germany, the Netherlands and the emerging powers is that with the latter we do not have a common past. China never colonized any African country and neither did Russia.
