Posts filed under 'Mozambican literature in translation'

Translation Tuesday: An Excerpt from Aruanda by Virgília Ferrão

“Witchcraft?” Pedro Lucas’ almost guttural voice catches in his throat in confusion.

This Translation Tuesday, we are honored to share with you an excerpt from the latest novel by the first woman to win Mozambique’s Prémio Literário 10 de Novembro literary prize. Here to tell you about this riveting tale of parallel love stories that traverse centuries is translator Beth Hickling-Moore herself: “Aruanda fluctuates between two stories, the first set in the 19th Century and the other in the 21st. In each story, prejudice, conflict and environmental destruction are destined to repeat themselves. In 1890, black servant Carina de Sousa is accused of witchcraft by the plantation overlord, along with her mother, Lina. What nobody knows is that Carina is in a secret and forbidden relationship with Pedro Lucas, the son of Carina’s boss, the captain. A scuffle ensues and Pedro Lucas is killed, leaving Carina pregnant with his mestizo child. The story then jumps back and forth between Carina’s story and the present day, in which professor Daniel de Barros —along with student Maria Cristina—embarks on a restoration project in the Aruanda region. As both stories develop in tandem, we discover that Daniel and Maria Cristina are in fact reincarnations of Pedro Lucas and Carina. As the professor and his students fight to save the Aruanda region from property developers who are destroying the landscapes just as the plantations did centuries before, we realise that Daniel and Maria’s love is similarly ill-fated. While Aruanda reflects on the country’s issues of prejudice, conflict and environmental destruction past and present, the novel does not feature the word ‘Mozambique’ at all: much like Isabel Allende’s Casa de los Espiritus is an allegory of national history without ever naming names, Aruanda takes place in fictional Aruanda, named after the Afro-Brazilian spiritual citadel of the same name, and considers whether postcolonial, post civil-war Mozambique is indeed a version of this utopia, or whether it is controlled by the same forces as it always has been. Aruanda will be of interest to a contemporary readership because it falls within the spheres of climate fiction, science fiction and race writing. Recent big-budget film and TV adaptations of novels such as The End We Start From and Leave the World Behind demonstrate the popularity of such genres, but very little climate fiction is published from the African continent, one of the regions most affected by the climate crisis. The book is also reminiscent of Octavia Butler’s classic, Kindred, in its historical episodes and supernatural elements.”

Aruanda is silent. Its solitude has risen, its melancholy dripping into the sea. I’ve never been to the Indian Ocean, but this is how I picture it: deep and still like the tombs of my ancestors who traversed its waters. Its quietude stretches right up to the large house belonging to the Prazo overlords: Captain Major Bento Noronha and his wife, Dona Luísa.

The dinner table is laid just so, just how Dona Luísa likes it. Tonight we are hosting young Doctor Fernando, the family physician. After coming to see Sargeant Pedro Lucas, he has been invited to stay for dinner.

Captain Bento and Doctor Fernando’s conversation lingers on banalities as the sweet scent of lilies tickles my nostrils. I inhale deeply and see Dona Luísa descending the granite steps, carrying a glass vase holding the flowers.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Doctor Fernando.”

“An absolute honour, Madam,” he responds politely, nodding in reverence to his hostess.

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Many Bridges To Cross: Sandra Tamele on Mozambican Portuguese and Unfolding a Publishing Scene

. . . translation plays a pivotal role in terms of making [Mozambican] borders more permeable to culture and knowledge and the circulation thereof.

Having envisioned a publishing infrastructure for Mozambicans and by Mozambicans after becoming the first published literary translator in her country, polyglot Sandra Tamele established a literary translation prize, attended the Breadloaf Translators’ Conference, obtained a diploma in translation from the Institute of Linguists Educational Trust in the United Kingdom, and eventually co-founded consortiums of literary translators and book publishers. She did all this while translating works from the English and Italian into the Mozambican Portuguese, from Premio Strega-winning Italian novelist Niccolò Ammaniti’s Eu não tenho medo (I Am Not Scared) to Jamaican poet Raymond Antrobus’s A Perseveranca (The Perseverance), and learning other languages—including the Mozambican Sign Language. 

Throughout all this, establishing The London Book Fair award-winning independent press Editora Trinta Nove Zero (30.09) and the As Sete por Quatro (7×4)—which champions works by marginalised Mozambican writers writing in Mozambican Portuguese, English, and other local languages such as Makhuwa, Sena, and Changana—seems to be her career’s crown jewel so far. In this work, she has engineered a landscape more consequential than any edifice and armature: the new age of Mozambican literature, translation, and publishing. “Literary translation is still underrated in Mozambique,” Tamele laments in her essay ‘Desassimilar: Decolonizing a Granddaughter of Assimilados,’ “But I have chosen a different path now, and this work is too important for me to give up.”

In this interview, I conversed with Tamele on the intricacies of translating from English and Italian into the Mozambican Portuguese language; finding readership in the Mozambique and the rest of the Lusophone world; and being one of the architects of Mozambique’s literary and publishing scene. 

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Did you have a road map to develop a publishing infrastructure with your many contributions to Mozambican literature? What went unmentioned behind the scenes?

Sandra Tamele (ST): I have to admit that I did not have a roadmap, but wish I had one when I decided to become a ‘PublisHer’ back in 2018; most of the shifts in my career, through this past decade, were a result of my restless, problem-solver spirit. In hindsight, I think that I never expected or even dreamed that today I could win any literary or publishing awards, nor act as a PublisHer advisory board member and president of the Mozambican Publishers and Booksellers Association, among others. 

Long story short, I left a career where I felt unwanted for one where I felt invisible—and with less prospects of succession because I had never heard a single child say they wanted to become a literary translator when they grew up. The solution: a literary translation competition to raise the profile of language professionals, while promoting reading and literary translation practice among young people in Mozambique. Three years later, we had this amazing collection of stories that no publishing house in Mozambique was willing to invest in, in spite being written by award-winning authors like Alain Mabanckou, Marguerite Abouet, and Imbolo Mbue, to mention a few. 

Establishing 30.09 was the solution. It went from strength to strength and now encompasses a creative writing initiative for women, workshops for illustrators, the transcription of children’s and YA books to build a Braille library, agenting for Mozambican writers, and the project of a groundbreaking bookshop and community library. I guess I am The Architect without a plan. Despite the steep learning curve and the many hats I have to wear, I believe that I’m gaining focus as I grow as a publisHer. 

In 2024, I plan to be more intentional in working with my peers to provide training for a cohort of female high school graduates in key publishing and related fields, to start building the book sector infrastructure in Mozambique. A roadmap for those who follow on my footsteps is also on the agenda, in addition to building a database and statistics for the sector. I’m now also in the position to advocate for book and literacy policies with key decision makers.

AMMD: You disclosed that most Mozambican writers do not share your views about the potentials of literary translation. In what ways has 30.09 been a solution to the many challenges you previously outbraved and myths you tried (and are still trying) to dispel as a translator and publisher? 

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