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Photo: Shiv Kumar Pushpakar

Poet Speak Alain Mabanckou believes writers from Congo expressed their hopes for people instead of discussing negritude

Now at the University of California, Los Angeles, this professor was in the Capital recently for the 10th Printemps des Poets, a commemoration of poetry organised by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. An African Diaspora writer, it is no surprise that he was invited for a celebration of cultural diversity.

Born in Congo-Brazzaville (now the Republic of the Congo), he has written six novels and six collections of poetry. His novel “African Psycho” was most recently translated into English. Is the book a parody of the American novel, “American Psycho”?

Mabanckou admits that while he likes Bret Easton Ellis’ original, this is a parody, as the African psycho is an inept killer. He wants to kill. But he cannot. He explains, “My books deal with losers. I don’t like very real characters.” But why losers? “I write because there’s something wrong in society. It’s easier to write of failure than success.”

The book, written as a monologue, infuses humour into a lethal subject. Mabanckou explains the treatment. “I want to express something deep. But I still want to make people laugh. Humour helps to create sympathy. By the end of the book, the reader wants the protagonist to succeed in his killing!”

“Memoirs of a Porcupine”, which received the Prix Renaudot, a prestigious literary prize in France, explores African traditions that respect animals. Having moved out of Congo over 25 years ago, it is through the novel that he remembers the beastly fables his mother told him. The book is an attempt to reinforce African wisdom, because, “Africans are losing their sense of traditions as they embrace modernity from Europe.”

If his novels are often parodies and critiques, his poems are his own personal dark room. He elaborates, “I can’t write roaring poetry.” In his quiet poetry he recalls his mother, his childhood and his country. “Poetry is more about memories. I don’t laugh a lot in my poems.” He adds, “I hide a lot in my novels.” His novels deal instead with oppressive regimes and unkind dictatorships. “To express love for one’s country,” he explains, “one needs to criticise the people and the government.”

Being part of the Diaspora has helped him creatively and critically. He clarifies, “One doesn’t need to be in the country to write the country.” He gives the examples of Salman Rushdie and Gabriel Garica Marquez — who wrote his epic “One Hundred Years of Solitude” while in Spain and not in Columbia.

Distance doesn’t remove, as a writer is finally a prisoner of his country, he feels. In fact he says writers writing from within Congo are missing the transformation, which the Diasporic writers have caught a glimpse of.

He hints at censorship, when he reveals, “When one’s outside Congo, it’s easier to get one’s voice heard. Inside, it’s not that easy.”

He has just started working on a fiction book, “It’s about prostitution between Congo Brazzaville and Congo Kinshasa,” he says.

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