Africa Kills Her Sun

“No doubt, many will ask the questions, but they will do it in the safety and comfort of their homes, over the interminable bottles of beer, uncomprehendingly watching their boring, cheap television programs, the rejects of Europe and America, imports to oil their vacuity…And they will forget.”

Bana characterizes the spectators by their lack of morality, their reliance on numbing comforts, and their fleeting recognition and concern over the health of their society. The damning single line “And they will forget” emphasizes the fickle nature of cultural memory; this forgetfulness develops the theme of The Nature of Imprisonment, where the inability to remember and provide sustained concern keeps the country in shackles.

“We voted for death. After all, we were armed robbers, bandits. We knew it… We were being honest to ourselves, to our vocation, to our country and to mankind.”

The scornful irony in this passage lies in Bana’s definition of himself as a robber and bandit; in openly defining himself as such to Zole and the courts, he shows a form of honesty that is at odds with the government’s facade of doling out justice. Bana subverts the common idea that the antithesis of morality or justice is crime. Here, the antithesis of justice is a lack of awareness and honesty. This form of honesty is not one that is solely rooted in the particularities of his African nation; using repetition and parallel structure with “to,” Bana emphasizes that this honesty works on several layers and is universal, striving to abolish the constraints or imprisonment of all humanity.

“I say, if my avocation was antisocial, I’m in good company. And that company consists of Presidents of countries, transnational organizations, public servants high and low, men and women. The only difference is that while I’m prepared to pay the price for it all, the others are not. See?”

Bana elucidates more of his worldview, knowledge, and awareness, wherein all positions within the government structure are as unlawful as those who are conventionally seen as committers of crimes. The rhetorical “See?” links back to Bana’s main reason for writing the letter—to share with Zole and not be the sole carrier of this important, weighty knowledge. This knowledge is the key to a better future for the nation. This “see” is an entreaty, a sign that he has hope that knowledge will be gained and remembered. In this passage, the “see” is specifically about the fact that Bana is different in that he will be honest and accept punishment for his actions. This knowledge, therefore, encompasses more than recognition of the government’s faults; Bana wants Zole to also see the truth of his character—his unique moral reasoning.

“I’m not asking for your understanding or sympathy. I need neither, not now nor hereafter. I’m saying it as it is. Right? Cool.”

Even though Bana wants the relief of sharing his life story and beliefs, he denies that he wants a two-way emotional connection. These lines are an assertion that show the internal conflict in Bana as he struggles to overcome his lonely position of being hyper-aware of his society’s failings. His determination to distance himself from Zole—despite writing this letter in the hopes of sharing himself—is perhaps stemming from his upcoming execution. His matter-of-fact tone and abrupt “Cool” are ways to assert control and nonchalance in the face of annihilation. There is also the possibility that Zole would not understand; rather than face this, he takes the position of not caring. He ends this paragraph with an “Understand?” which contradicts the beginning of the passage where he claims that he does not need her understanding. (Bana uses ethos to indicate that he is moral and trustworthy; he seems to be in conflict with pathos, however, or outreaches for an emotional connection, except for his assertion in the beginning of the letter that she is his solace.)

“In another time and in another country, they’d be Sir Francis Drake, Cortes or Sir Walter Raleigh. They’d have made empires and earned national honors. But here, our life is one big disaster, an endless tragedy.”

Bana continues to show Zole how little separates revered heroes from criminals. He purposefully mentions three men known for the exploitation of other country’s natural resources and people; these men are celebrated by the state and the public for their success, and these men are the ones studied in history books for charting the course of history, a history that is often Eurocentric. Despite their deplorable actions, these men are heroes. Criminals, meanwhile, share these attributes, but they are punished solely due to the accident of their birthplace and ethnicity. For those born in countries that are exploited, life is itself a loss of freedom; there is no course of action that is truly laudable.

“In every facet of our lives—in politics, in commerce and in the professions—robbery is the baseline. And it’s been so from time. In the early days, our forebears sold their kinsmen into slavery for minor items such as beads, mirrors, alcohol and tobacco. These days, the tune is the same, only the articles have changed into cars, transistor radios and bank accounts. Nothing else has changed, and nothing will change in the foreseeable future. But that’s the problem of those of you who will live beyond tomorrow, Zole.”

This passage explicitly states Bana’s knowledge of how the world works, specifically in regard to his nation. Exploitation by outside powers, as well as the country’s own self-betrayal, is baked into the nation’s history. Surprisingly, Bana does not say that this situation is hopeless, or that, despite the fact that robbery has been a throughline for decades, man is inherently corrupt. He condemns man, but he does not think this is the natural state of things and should be accepted. In the last line, he turns his back on life, for he continues to grapple with his impending death. He works to set up a divide between himself and everyone else who dwells in the land of the living. He addresses Zole by name here, singling her out and emphasizing the fact that she is alive and thus has a responsibility. He is not simply writing to himself, but to someone with a name. It also further emphasizes his soon-to-be lack of existence.

“Zole, do I rant? Do I pour out myself to you in bitter tones? Do not lay it to the fact that I’m about to be shot by firing squad. On second thoughts, you could, you know. After all, seeing death so clearly before me might possibly have made me more perspicacious? And yet, I’ve always seen these things clearly in my mind’s eye. I never did speak about them, never discussed them. I preferred to let them weigh me down. See?”

The use of rhetorical questions allows Bana to think through his writing, developing depth of character and the theme of Acceptance of Mortality as he questions his own relationship to death and how it could be affecting him. Saro-Wiwa’s use of repetition and parallel structure—“do” and “never”—underscore Bana’s desperation to be seen and understood.

“For I’ve still this fond regard for the sea which dates from my time in the Merchant Navy. I love its wide expanse, its anonymity, its strength, its unfathomable depth.”

In the beginning of the letter, Bana asserts that he loves Zole; the only other object of his affection and admiration is the ocean. The ocean is a metaphor, representing the best parts of humanity and nature. Bana believes, in his own way, that people have this ability, for they too have potential in their depths. The ocean is giant and anonymous, which harkens back to Bana’s characterization of the nameless, faceless spectators. While the anonymity of the spectators allows for forgetting and inertia, this similarity implies that the spectators have potential. The ocean offers an image for a way out of imprisonment.

“I should want to see my executors, stare the nozzles of their guns bravely in the face, see the open sky, the sun, daylight. See and hear my countrymen as they cheer us to our death. To liberation and freedom.”

Bana continues his motif of seeing. He considers himself able to see the state of things as they really are; he wants Zole to be able to see, or understand, too. Here, he speaks of literal seeing. What he sees are natural elements that are bright and beautiful and expansive. Again, Bana uses nature to describe what is free, the seemingly only free element in the imprisoned nation and world. He also includes death as part of the free world. Death has a new meaning here; it is not the end of life, but the end of imprisonment. The spectators are unaware that what they are seeing is an act of liberation; they only see delightful violence. This furthers the theme of acceptance of mortality; death becomes something alluring and unknown, like the ocean.

“The divide between us breathing like everyone else in the Stadium and us as meat for worms is, oh, so slim, it makes life a walking death! But I should be glad to be rid of the world, of a meaningless existence that grows more dreary by the day. I should miss Sazan and Jimba, though. It'll be a shame to see these elegant gentlemen cut down and destroyed. And I'll miss you, too, my dear girl. But that will be of no consequence to the spectators.”

This passage highlights Bana’s dialectical tension between embracing and condemning life. Within himself, he holds both a disdain for the people around him as well as a fondness for those near him. By referring to Sazan and Jimba as men who will be “cut down and destroyed,” he likens them to trees, or something natural growing from the Earth, contributing to the motif of nature as something good, free, and hopeful.

“I remember once long ago reading in a newspaper of a man whose one request to the priest was that he be buried along with his walking stick—his faithful companion over the years. He was pictured slumping in death, devotedly clutching his beloved walking stick. True friendship, that. Well, Zole, if ever you see such a photograph of me, make a cutting. Give it to a sculptor and ask him to make a stone sculpture of me as I appear in the photograph. He must make as faithful a representation of me as possible. I must be hard of feature and relentless in aspect.”

This passage underscores the idea that Bana wants to be remembered. He believes there is a chance that his death can bring about some kind of change or spark some kind of reckoning. He exhibits himself as someone who does not forget but is imprinted by what he sees and who he talks to. The tone of “must be hard of feature and relentless in aspect” can be read as exaggerated and thus comical; underlying the humor, however, is a desire to provoke change, to stick in someone else’s memory. This passage also highlights one of the only examples of friendship—the loyalty between a man and his stick. Loyalty and steadfastness are two elements missing from society.

“I haven't even seen her in ten years, I repeat. The really compelling need to write her is that on this very special night, I have felt a need to be close to a living being, someone who can relate to others why we did what we did in and out of court.”

This passage shows Bana’s hope that Zole will keep his memory and knowledge alive. Knowledge and memory are the keys to combatting imprisonment and bring hope for the future. Here, Bana’s characterization of Zole is more generic; what he desires is not so much Zole, but a kind of intimacy with someone. He chooses his childhood love interest because she represents innocence and goodness.

“And I want to borrow from him. I'd like you to put this on my gravestone, as my epitaph: ‘Africa kills Her Sun.’ A good epitaph, eh? Cryptic…I’m sure you'll agree with me. ‘Africa Kills Her Sun!’ That's why she's been described as the Dark Continent? Yes?”

Bana’s tone is both excited and cheeky in this passage as he figures out his epitaph. He is delighted with his own cleverness and wordplay, but there is also gravity to his words. Despite his condemnation of man, he uses the motif of light and darkness to demonstrate how people are the light; people are the only hope for Africa’s future. The tragic current state is not permanent, for Bana; people are the answer, and are the only pathway out of imprisonment.